


A Muggle-born Magic

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Arranged Marriage, Community: hermionebigbang, Draco Malfoy - character, Drama, F/M, Hermione Granger - character, Marriage of Convenience, Romance, Scorpius Malfoy - character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-26
Updated: 2009-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-03 19:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regency-era AU. Physician's daughter Hermione Granger finds herself in need of a way to pay off her father's debts after his death. Draco Malfoy, retired from the politics of the Isolationists, a group of pure-bloods bent on separating 'true' magic from lesser folk, finds himself in need of a tutor for his son, Scorpius, who appears to be incapable of magic and must learn to survive in a world without it. Draco also needs a wife and mother for Scorpius, to satisfy a promise to his unwell father. After she saves his son from an attack by Isolationists, Draco hires the Muggle-born Miss Granger for the former, and after a riot in Vauxhall Gardens and a scandalous discovery made by his mother, weds that selfsame Muggle-born for the latter. While making the best of her marriage of (in)convenience, Hermione discovers that Scorpius' history of wild imaginings and dreams is more than just imagination. As she attempts to teach him about magical abilities no one expected he would ever have, she and Draco work together to raise Scorpius and learn to trust each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Muggle-born Magic

_England, Early 19th Century_

In Mister Chapman's circulating library in Diagon Alley, Hermione Granger sat at a long table, sipping chocolate and watching as a quartet of chattering young wizards passed by the window, their walking sticks clacking on the pavement. She smiled at their elaborate waistcoats and watch fobs, letting their cheery garb distract her for a moment, then sighed and turned her attention from the window. "Perhaps I should take up a teaching position," she said to the young woman sitting beside her. Lavender Brown was an old friend from Hogwarts, and had been a great support to a Muggle-born girl who often felt like an outsider in a magical world. Hermione had taken to her new world with enthusiasm, though she knew that enthusiasm was sometimes a cover for her own insecurities. "It could hardly be any different from what I did all during our school lessons. I always was the one explaining the work to and correcting the papers of the other girls, you remember."

"I remember they called you 'the Major' because you insisted on driving us all like little soldiers." Lavender turned another page in the periodical spread open on the table in front of her, _Miss Morningside's Quarterly Review of Gowns and Accessories Suitable for Fashionable Witches of Every Age_. "Perhaps you should consider a career with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Stopping people from breaking rules was always your primary hobby back then." She tapped one of the hand-colored illustrations in the periodical. "What do you think? Should I have a spencer made in this color? It's all the crack, but I have some concerns that it might make me look dyspeptic."

Lavender was a dear friend, Hermione thought, but one whose mind operated on only one topic at a time. It might have been more effective to attempt to hold a conversation with her bonnet for as much reaction and response she earned from her schoolmate. Hermione repressed a sigh and set her chocolate aside to draw one of the numerous newspapers to her. She scanned the classified advertisements, looking at the variety of notices from persons seeking employment. Housemaids and nursery maids and footmen and coachmen, chambermaids and kitchen maids and valets and pages. "I could put an advertisement in the papers. Plenty of good families would need someone to instruct their children. I was always appalled by the lacks and holes in the education of some of the other students at Hogwarts. It's all very good to be able to name six applications for dandelion leaves, but if you have difficulties in doing sums, what use is that? If you have to use your fingers to add up five and five, you might want to consider the value of a normal education in addition to a magical one."

"Spanish blue, perhaps. Or French blue. The robin's egg is just not quite right for my complexion, wouldn't you say?"

"Lav, you're not listening to me!" Hermione slapped the newspaper, hitting it with such force that even the ironing applied to the newsprint could not prevent ink from smudging her white gloves. She made a face and stared at the paper, blaming it for the now-ruined gloves, and her eyes widened as she realized under her fingers was one of the multiple gossip items that society found so amusing. _It is said that a certain pale dragon is in hunt of a guardian for his egg, and has come to London on that search. Mothers of fair maidens may wish to keep them safe in the tower until the dragon has returned to his country lair_. Hermione had plenty of experience reading between the lines of 'subtle' allusions of gossip columns, and this one wasn't subtle in any possible definition of the word. She tapped the newspaper with one finger. "Lav. Lavender, look at this. Draco Malfoy is looking for a wife. Did you know he was intending to remarry?"

Lavender looked up from her periodical, blinking, then she covered her mouth with one hand to hide her teeth as she giggled. "Now that's interesting. Shouldn't be too difficult for him to find a replacement for Astoria. Any Knockturn Alley doxy ought to be equal to her quality, though she might object to taking on another woman's child. How old is the boy now, five?"

Hermione often felt she could sense when a situation was about to go wrong, and she felt that sense prickling at the back of her neck before Lavender had even finished speaking. It seemed as though the temperature in the shop had dropped to the chill of a January morning, and Hermione looked over her shoulder with no little trepidation. Her sense hadn't failed her. Standing directly behind them were Draco and Scorpius Malfoy. The two Malfoys looked so much alike that only height and years told them apart. Scorpius had one hand locked on the hem of Draco's coat; Draco had his hands at his sides, fingers curled loose as if he'd forced them out of fists. Draco took a deep breath and patted Scorpius on the back of his head, ruffling the white-blond strands. "I believe Mister Chapman has received a shipment of new books. I'd imagine some have lovely illustrations. Why don't you go take a look? Stay within eyesight." Scorpius nodded solemnly and released his grip on the coat to move to the front of the shop, with one glance over his shoulder at Draco, as if he needed reassurance that his father would not disappear.

Draco tugged his gloves up on his wrists and gave Lavender a stern look, his grey eyes dark as stone. "He's seven. And I have been tempted to call men out for far less insult to my wife. However, I have a policy against dueling women and imbeciles. Fortunately, you are both at once, so you are safe. I do suggest that you watch your tongue henceforth. It would become terribly uncomfortable for your reception in society if it became common knowledge that you were so indiscreet." He turned away without another word, calling to his son in a sharp voice and leaving the shop with a turn of speed that was almost undignified.

Lavender sputtered and coughed, but Hermione hardly heard her. She had seen, for one moment, just before Draco's eyes had hardened, a glimmer of pain pass across them. She made her excuses to Lavender and got up, hurrying out of the shop. She scanned the street as she unfurled her parasol, looking for the pair of Malfoys. Through the crowds lining Diagon Alley, they were impossible to spot, until she heard a boy's voice floating out of the open doorway of Fustian Fower's Frozen Ice Parlor. "But Papa, you promised!"

Hermione looked that direction to see Draco standing on the pavement outside the shop with one hand extended towards the door. "Scorpius, _now_. We're leaving." Scorpius protested again and Draco rubbed the back of his head, tugging at the silk bow that held his long hair back in a pale queue. The set of his shoulders, the gesture, his stance - it all spelled frustration, and Hermione braced herself to thump him with her parasol if he dared to do more than raise his voice to his son. He didn't. She heard his sigh as she approached him, heard him acquiesce to his son's demand for an ice.

"You allow him a great deal of freedom, don't you?" she asked. Draco stiffened and glanced her way, then looked away quickly. Hermione stepped in front of him before he could give her a direct cut and ignore her as completely as if she didn't exist. "Dra--Mister Malfoy. I wanted, um. I wanted to apologize. For what Lavender said back at the shop. She was out of hand, and should never have said that about your son. Or your wife."

"Miss Granger." Draco's voice was deeper than she remembered it from school, from hearing it at lessons and raised in laughter across the Great Hall at meals. "You do not need to apologize for Miss Brown's behavior. I expect no less out of her. You would be smart not to expect more."

Hermione stomped one slippered foot, counting to ten in her head. She went through English, French, and Italian before she felt calm enough to speak without shouting her opinion of the man's own manners at his sharp-featured face. She was still tempted to shout at him after her counting, but he had a look on his face that held the slightest amount of amusement, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her shriek on the street like a common vendor with a pushcart. "Maybe so," she said finally. "But she is one of my dearest friends, Mister Malfoy. _She_ was remarkably accepting of me when I first arrived at Hogwarts. Unlike certain parties I could name."

Draco looked at her, his lips thinning out as he pressed them together. His eyes flickered as he visibly gathered his control, and he went into Fower's to escort Scorpius to a table. Hermione knew that she should walk away and end the conversation right that moment, but she found herself standing next to his table.

Scorpius looked up, his lips stained raspberry pink. "Hello, Miss. Are you a tempting armful?"

Hermione stared in unabashed shock as Draco's pale skin suddenly flushed a deep, Gryffindor red. "Scorpius. That is vulgar. Do not ever use that word again. Even to Miss Granger."

"That's what Mister Goyle said at dinner last week. I heard him, Papa. I was listening behind the door because you'd promised to look at my drawings after dinner and I wanted to make certain that you didn't forget. He said you should look for one of those to keep you busy while you looked for a wife." Scorpius looked up to Hermione's face, his grey eyes wide. "My apologies, Miss Granger."

Hermione bit down on her lower lip to prevent the grin that wanted to escape when she heard Draco muffle a groan. She suspected that Draco would be putting up Silencing charms when he had dinner with his friends from now on. "No need to apologize, Scorpius," she said, sitting down without an invitation.

Scorpius gestured with his spoon. "Did you go to school with my father? Can you help him? He's in the market for a woman."

It was truly a complicated endeavor for Hermione to hide her laughter, though Draco's bright red face was well worth the struggle. "So I'm given to understand. I don't believe he'd need my help, though. It shouldn't be at all difficult for your father to find a wife in London."

"Harder than you'd think." Draco muttered it, then cleared his throat and gave a tight smile, clearly struggling to remain on good behavior in front of his son. "I've found it more complex without a governess to watch my son. There are too many places I need to go, too many people I need to visit, and as much as I enjoy Scorpius' company--" His smile softened as he looked at the boy, and Hermione felt her own lips curve in a smile to match. It was too rare to see any father in society showing open affection to his children. Her father had never been shy about making certain that she knew she was loved, but it wasn't the expected attitude from someone with the rank held by the Malfoys. "As much as I enjoy his company, children are not necessarily welcomed where I need to be. I need someone I can trust to keep him in good company when I cannot be with him. The process of finding a bride is quite involved."

Hermione folded her hands in her lap and gave Draco a long look. He seemed sincere about his statements, and while it was surprising that he'd spoken so candidly, to her of all people, it was obvious that he was looking to provide for Scorpius. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She'd never believed in destiny or fate, but that disbelief was taking a bit of a battering that day. She'd been looking through the advertisements for employment. While her father had been an accomplished and respected physician, it turned out that keeping track of his debts had not been one of his skills. After a visit to Robert Granger's man of affairs and to the bank where he had kept his accounts, she'd discovered that the comfortable income she'd been expecting would be unfortunately paltry. Various tradesmen, merchants, and moneylenders were calling in their bills, and even after she'd paid off the most pressing accounts, she still had too many to clear up. Either she sold everything she owned, down to the very stockings on her legs, in order to stay out of the workhouse, or she found employment in a hurry.

"What about her, Papa?" she heard Scorpius ask, and she opened her eyes in time to see a look of horror snap across Draco's face. She was certain there was a matching one on her own face. The color drained from Draco's cheeks as Scorpius continued in all innocence. "She seems to be a nice lady, and she's pretty. Won't she do?"

"Scorpius. Miss Granger is.... Well, you see, it's.... There's a small problem with that." Draco avoided her eyes, looking instead at his hands as he fidgeted with his gloves. As amused as she was at his discomfort, she felt a stab of anger that he clearly had not grown out of his childhood prejudices. She'd seen them so often in school that she was quite ashamed of herself for expecting he might have changed.

"I'm afraid we would not suit, Scorpius." Hermione kept her voice level, kept a smile in place for the child. "You see, I'm Muggle-born. It would be quite out of the question."

Scorpius' pale brows knotted and he pointed his spoon at his father, pink ice melting off it to drip onto the linen tablecloth. "You said it didn't matter and that you would take what you could get, Papa. I heard you. Why can't you hire her?"

Draco's startled exhale was almost covered up by her own, and she met his eyes with a laugh. They'd both misunderstood the child. "Oh," Draco said, his voice full of relief. "Hire her. Of course. That's what you meant. No, son, I'm sorry. Quite out of the question. I'm certain Miss Granger has her own pursuits."

"But I want her, and you already know her, so why wouldn't it work?"

From what little of him she'd seen that day, Hermione could tell that Draco was the sort of father who gave in far too frequently to his son's demands. She wondered if perhaps this time Scorpius was demanding too much, and if she was about to witness a terrifying tantrum as the spoiled son of a spoiled man was refused something he wanted.

She was already braced for a screeching outburst from Scorpius when she caught Draco making a gesture in the edge of her vision. Scorpius snapped his jaw shut with an audible click of his teeth, and he bowed his head until his hair fell into his eyes. "Sorry, Papa," he said, toying with his spoon. He raised his eyes to Hermione's, then looked back to his bowl. "Sorry, Miss Granger."

"Scorpius, go to the washroom and clean up, please. Come back immediately. Do not dawdle." Draco watched his son trot obediently to the rear of the restaurant, then turned his attention back to Hermione. "My apologies, Miss Granger. I'm afraid I've allowed Scorpius to have a great deal of freedom since his mother's death."

"Don't trouble yourself, Dra--Mister Malfoy." Hermione couldn't determine what was more astonishing - that Draco had headed off a tantrum with a gesture or that he had apologized to her, not only for the behavior of his son but for himself. She was about to decide on the former when Draco threw a third contender onto the pitch.

"It's not a bad idea, though."

Hermione stared at him, blinking in confusion. "Pardon?"

"It's not a bad idea. Hiring you, I mean. If you're free. I did overhear you say were looking for employment."

"Well, yes, but--" Hermione twisted her hands together in her lap, trying to decide if at some point between his leaving the bookshop and her catching him up at the frozen ice parlor, Draco had been put under a curse. It was the only explanation she could conceive of that made the slightest bit of sense to her. Draco Malfoy shouldn't be speaking with her, much less suggesting that he might consider hiring her on as some sort of assistant to his only son and heir. This had to be a strange type of joke, a prank designed expressly to torment her. Hermione's eyes narrowed. Of course. That had to be it. "That's it, isn't it? That was your plan all along, wasn't it? You probably heard that I was in distress with my finances, God only knows how, but I suspect you have plenty of contacts in your circle. But you heard, and then you knew that I'd be looking for work, and you came into Mister Chapman's specifically to catch my attention." That made far less sense than Draco speaking to her in the first place, and she knew that her convoluted speculation was impossible, but she was confused enough that her mind didn't seem to be working well.

Draco knotted his brows. "What are you on about? What plan? I'm making an offer of employment, an honest offer." He glanced towards the rear of the shop, his brows knotting further until thin lines appeared across his forehead. "I can't discuss details here. Not now, but if you, er. If you'd care to call on me tomorrow?"

He stood, pulling a card case from the inner pocket of his coat. His eyes never left the back of the restaurant as he removed a card from the case and set the embossed rectangle of pasteboard on the table beside her. "I'll be at home all day, drop round any time." His voice sounded tight as he spoke, and Hermione had the distinct impression that he was worried. He stepped away from the table without another word, his boots clicking on the marble tiles as he hurried to the back of the shop.

Hermione turned in her chair to watch him, concern flaring through her as Draco flung open the door leading to the corridor that separated the washrooms from the restaurant proper. She heard him call for Scorpius, once and then again, then the door banged shut and Draco stood, scanning the restaurant's patrons. Even at that distance, Hermione could see that Draco's eyes were wide, too wide.

Frightened.

She put her hand up to cover her mouth as she bit at her lower lip. Draco dashed into the restaurant's kitchens and she heard raised voices. The other patrons of the parlor were beginning to look up from their frozen ices and cups of tea, murmuring to each other in hopes of a scandal about to break. Hermione was halfway out of her seat when Draco burst out of the kitchens and charged straight through the restaurant to the street. She grabbed up her parasol and the card, scrabbled in her reticule for a few coins to drop on the table as payment for Scorpius' frozen ice, then rushed out after Draco.

She almost smacked into his back just outside the door. He had both hands raked into his hair as he turned to look up one side of the street and down the other. "Scorpius!" His voice rang off the buildings, echoing over the chatter of pedestrians and the shouts of vendors at their carts. He shouted again, the aristocratic drawl of his voice coming unstrung with worry. "Scorpius!"

Hermione held her breath, hoping to hear a young boy's voice raised in answer to his father's frantic call, but there was no response. She laid her hand on Draco's arm, and he started, jumping away and spinning to look at her. His face was open and vulnerable, a muscle twitching in his cheek. "Scorpius," he said, his son's name sounding like a plea.

"We'll find him," she said, her hand out to him. "We'll find him, Draco. You go left, I'll go right. Check the shops, check the alleys. Ask every vendor you see. He's very noticeable; someone will have seen him." Draco nodded, nodded too rapidly, and jerked his hands from his hair. His fringe loosened from the bow holding it into its queue and fell into his eyes. Hermione resisted the bewildering urge to push it out of his face, pushing on his shoulder instead.

She scurried down the street, her parasol tucked under her arm and her skirts clutched in her fists. The standards of propriety could go hang, as far as she was concerned. They needed to find Scorpius. A lost child was more important than random strangers on the street getting a look at her ankles. Hermione poked her head into shop doors, tapped vendors on the arm, peered down alleys and under carts. She passed the entrance to Knockturn Alley and came to an abrupt halt several feet beyond it. She held her breath and whirled around to stare at the shadowy alcove. _Oh, God_, she thought. _God, no._ Even in broad daylight, Knockturn was barely safe for most full-grown men, much less a child.

She approached the alley, her hand to her throat, and tried to see into the shadows without stepping into them. "Scorpius?" she called, but her voice failed to rise above a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. No answer came for a moment, then she heard a small voice raised in a shout several shops away.

Hermione followed the voice, ducking down an alley between two buildings that led to a small courtyard full of broken chairs and dirty rags, pieces of a refuse pile that had scattered across the courtyard.

The four young men she'd seen passing the circulating library earlier that day were surrounding Scorpius, gone hunting for fun. They'd found it in a small, vulnerable boy, and Hermione gripped her parasol tight as she headed down the alley, picking her way over rubbish and scurrying insects. The youths had surrounded Scorpius, and as she got closer, she could hear them chanting. Whatever they were saying went unheard as Hermione saw the look on Scorpius' face. It was a tiny match for how his father had looked when he'd first realized his son was missing. Scorpius was terrified.

Scorpius crouched in the middle of the circle, both hands cradled to his chest. Something small wriggled in his grasp and Hermione realized with a gasp that he was holding a kitten. The jeering boys kicked dust and rubbish at Scorpius, and one raised an arm. Hermione spotted a rock in the boy's hand, and she leapt forward, her parasol and reticule dropped and forgotten.

She skidded on wet refuse, nearly knocking Scorpius over in her rush to get between him and the group of wizards. She wrapped her arms around him and hunched to protect both him and the mewling kitten. Scorpius burrowed into her shoulder and flung one arm around her neck, quivering. "Miss Granger," he said with a whimper. "Miss Granger, _help_."

Hermione picked him up, clutching him close with one hand at the back of his head. As she stood, the boys backed up, glancing at each other in the face of an adult witness. Before Hermione could open her mouth to give them all the lecture of their young lives, a shape in the shadows moved, and a large figure in a hooded cloak stepped away from the building. Only the deep voice as it spoke in harsh tones told her that the figure was male. "So little Master Malfoy has to have the Mudblood fight his battles for him. His father must be so proud."

The young wizards slunk into the shadows as the figure moved forward. Hermione twisted to angle Scorpius away, kitten and boy both crying softly. "Who are you?" she snapped, forcing anger into her voice to keep it from shaking. "It will be convenient to have your name when I report you to the Ministry."

"For frightening a child? I hardly think so, Miss Granger. But if you'd like to report me for something, I'm certain I can indulge in a little entertainment. Play in the dirt for a bit." The voice that emerged from that hooded figure almost stank of malevolence and Hermione shuddered. She took two steps back and the figure snapped a wand from his cloak, firing a spell that sent a pile of half-rotted newspapers into flames. Hermione gasped and Scorpius screamed.

As the man laughed, Hermione heard a roar behind her, a roar that no animal could make. She clung tighter to Scorpius, Scorpius clung tighter to the kitten, and Hermione turned to see Draco charging down the alley. His face was contorted, his hair loose and wild around his shoulders. In the sun, he was all sharp planes and hard angles, with fury in his storm cloud eyes. Time seemed to slow as he ran towards them, and Hermione watched with awe, thinking this was the same heart-pounding sensation that accompanied the appearance of angels in horrid novels. Draco shouted his son's name and drew his wand, and Hermione remembered that in the ranks of angels, not all of them were beautiful and kind.

They were warriors, and one of them was Death.

Scorpius screamed as Draco grabbed Hermione's arm and yanked her backwards, knocking her bonnet loose from its ribbons and into the mud. Draco leveled his wand, the incantation of a curse forming in his deep voice. The cloaked man only laughed and snapped his fingers. Before Draco could finish his spell, the young men ran out of the shadows to line up between the two wizards, their faces wearing twisted, vicious smiles. Draco swore and jerked his hand up, his curse sparking impotently into the air. Hermione took a deep breath and clung to Scorpius, then whispered a quick charm. She felt the magical shield snap into place around her and the child in her arms, and she held Scorpius tightly while Draco faced the hooded wizard.

"Pathetic. You always were weak, Malfoy." As the cloaked man spoke, the four wizards in front of him made mocking calls and gestures, then as Hermione stared in horror, they shimmered, changing appearance in mere instants. Hermione had only a second to realize all those youths had been full-grown men under a glamour before they drew their wands simultaneously.

Draco swore and spun around. He grabbed her and turned on the spot, Apparating out of the alley. They landed outside the bank – Draco cursing, Hermione sputtering, and Scorpius screaming in complete terror. Hermione had no time to speak or even think. Draco clawed Scorpius out of her arms and turned again, disappearing with a crack of magic that echoed off the buildings. Hermione stared at the empty spot where he'd been, her hand to her throat as she struggled for breath.

It took her over an hour to convince one of the Ministry guard-wizards to accompany her back to the alley, and by the time she arrived, the men were gone, along with her parasol, reticule, and bonnet. No evidence of the confrontation remained, not even ashes from the newspapers the cloaked man had set alight, and the guard-wizard only gave her a pitying look when she tried to give an explanation in confused stammers. "Just you go on home and rest up, Miss. You're overexcited, out without your bonnet. The sun can do funny things to you women. Have some tea and you'll be all better by morning."

Hermione choked in outraged frustration, but the guard-wizard tipped his hat and walked away. Hermione stomped one foot, and her shoe slipped in the mud. She fell, dropping to her hands and knees. She spat a curse that would have made her father strop her backside, if he'd been alive to hear it, and sat up on her knees to strip off her ruined gloves. After tossing them aside for whatever rag and bone man came by looking for rubbish to clean up and sell for Knuts or gin, she huffed a lock of hair out of her face. Nothing was left in the alley. Nothing but a battered, dirty card a few feet away. Hermione scrabbled to pull it out of the mud. Malfoy's address.

* * *

She presented herself at Malfoy's terrace house in Philter Square promptly at nine the next morning. Her first, frantic attempt to pay him a call, the previous day, had been rebuffed by his house-elf, who had refused to let her even stand on the steps outside his door, much less enter the foyer of the house. When Hermione had returned to her apartments in Diagon Alley and looked at a mirror, she'd understood why. Her thick, dark hair had fallen from its chignon and straggled around her face, which was smudged with dirt. Her gown was filthy, the hem coated with mud and rotted rubbish, the bodice damp with Scorpius' tears and the lace shredded from the frightened kitten.

This time, when the door opened, the house-elf gave a sniff of greeting, but did not shout her away with "Master is not at home!" Hermione stood in the foyer while the elf went to alert Draco that she had arrived. Several minutes passed before the elf returned, with a look of smug triumph on her tiny green face.

"Master is sleeping still," the elf said, raising her head. "Miss is coming back later and trying again. Maybe Master is being available then."

Hermione was not pleased with the look the house-elf was giving her. There was far too much superiority and self-satisfaction in that small expression. Hermione thought she wouldn't have had to be standing in Draco Malfoy's front hall to know that was Draco Malfoy's house-elf. The small creature had the same attitude and arrogance of her owner, and that pulled the same reaction out of Hermione. Sheer Gryffindor stubbornness. "Then you will just march up those stairs and wake him, because I am not leaving these premises until I speak to Mister Malfoy. You turned me away yesterday, and you will _not_ do so again today. Go on!" She made a flapping gesture with her reticule. "Fetch him!"

The house-elf's large eyes widened and the tips of her ears quivered. Hermione dropped her reticule to hang from her girdle and clapped both hands to her mouth. "I'm sorry," she squeaked. Her gloves muffled the apology, but Hermione's eyes were as wide as the elf's. She couldn't believe she'd spoken to the little creature that way. Certainly it had been rude but that was no excuse for her own behavior. They could only do as their owners instructed them, and it should hardly come as a surprise that Draco's house-elf acted like --

Well, like Draco.

"I'm sorry," she said again, clasping her hands at her breast. "I shouldn't have been so forceful with you. I didn't really mean to be so demanding. I simply need to speak to Mister Malfoy. We had a spot of trouble yesterday and I already went away once, and I'm not going away again until I speak to him and make certain he's all right." She gasped, her fingers tightening and twisting around each other. "And Scorpius! Oh dear God, Scorpius. Is he all right? He was so frightened and I was so worried. Tell me he's all right!"

The house-elf gave her a strange, sideways look, then spoke quietly as she gripped one ear in her long fingers and gave it a twist. "Master Scorpius is resting."

Hermione thought she had never heard the word 'resting' sound so ominous before. The house-elf's tone made it seem as though Scorpius was on the verge of death. She grabbed at her skirts, thinking to run up the stairs and pound on every door until she found the child, then another voice joined the conversation and stopped her in her traces.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione raised her eyes to the stairs as Draco descended. She skimmed over the pair of boots with white tops and a polish on the black leather so fine she imagined she would be able to see her reflection if she were close enough, over the tight buff breeches covering alarmingly well muscled thighs. She realized she was staring and jerked her eyes past Draco's frilled white shirt to his face. Dark smudges lurked under his eyes and thin lines bracketed his mouth. His skin seemed grey and dull, along with his hair, but his eyes were bright.

"Scorpius is resting, Miss Granger, so do keep your voice down. If you feel the need to apologize to my house-elf, for reasons I fail to comprehend, please keep your volume beneath a bellow." He turned at the foot of the stairs to go through a door, then hesitated on the threshold and looked back at her. "Well? Are you joining me for breakfast or not?" He went into the room without another word, leaving Hermione to gape at him. The house-elf looked at her, and before the creature could change expressions from the polite deference she'd assumed at Draco's appearance, Hermione shoved her bonnet into the small green hands, gathered up her skirts, and followed.

Draco sat at the head of the table, a cup of tea close to hand, with a plate of toast and eggs in front of him. "Bring the jam over," he said without looking up from his newspaper. "Have whatever you'd like from the sideboard there. The tea's Oolong today. Not my preference, but with a bit of milk, it's passable."

Hermione blinked in confusion, unable to determine the reasoning behind the rather bewildering banalities, then huffed a loose curl out of her face with some annoyance. If he was trying to distract her with idle chatter, he had another think coming. Hermione jerked a chair out from the table and sat at Draco's right. "Fetch your own jam. Is Scorpius all right? He was terrified yesterday. What happened? Who were those men and what did they want? I tried to pop round last night and see that you and your son were all right, but your house-elf turned me away and she tried to do it again just now. I thought that was really quite rude when all I wanted to do was verify that nothing was wrong and that neither of you were hurt. Just because my gown was a bit grubby was no excuse to show me the door, Dra-Mister Malfoy."

"You do chatter on," he said, turning over a page of the paper. "I ordered Sadie to refuse any callers, regardless of their state of dress. However, if it will assuage your bruised feelings, I'll instruct her to allow in ragamuffins the next time my son is attacked." Draco folded up his paper and set it aside, then leaned back in his chair and took up his tea. "He's fine, by the way. Quite shaken and upset, but he's physically unharmed."

Draco's eyes lowered to his tea, and he swallowed before speaking again. "Thank you for coming to his aid yesterday, Miss Granger. You distracted them, gave me just enough time to find you. Thank your ridiculous mane and its inability to stay under a bonnet for that, as well. One of the street vendors saw it, and therefore you, go into the alley. I'm quite grateful you were there. I wouldn't have reached him in time. I don't know what I would have done if he'd been...."

He shook his head and went silent. Hermione was thankful that he had. She didn't think she could have handled an outright description of what might have happened to the child had those men got their wands on him.

"As long as he's safe." She set her hands together in her lap, holding her reticule in the folds of her dress, and watched Draco for a moment. If she had to make a supposition, she would say he'd been awake all night. She thought about scolding him for running himself to exhaustion with nothing but tea and toast to cover his body's needs, but held back. It wasn't her place, he wouldn't listen to the lecture regardless, and if it had been her son, she'd have sat up the night as well. "Who were those men?" she asked again, consciously modulating her voice. "They knew you."

Draco took a long drink of his tea. When he set the cup down, it thumped hard, so hard that the pale yellow tablecloth didn't muffle the sound. Draco stared across the breakfast room, the skin around his eyes tightening. "Isolationists."

Hermione stifled a noise of surprise with some effort. There wasn't a witch or wizard in England who hadn't heard of the Isolationists. Of the old-line families, the _haut ton_ of wizard society, the Isolationists were the oldest and the haughtiest. They were all quite vocal about their desire to separate wizards from Muggles, to keep the two worlds apart. They harangued the Ministry to strengthen the laws that protected the pure-blood families, demanded that the Muggle-borns and those they considered 'weak, lesser blood' should be kept far away from the 'true' magical folk. They'd nearly succeeded on many occasions, only losing their debates by the narrowest of margins. As more Muggle-borns entered the society and as more families took on modern attitudes, intermarrying with not only Muggle-borns but Muggles themselves, the Isolationist numbers grew smaller and their rhetoric grew louder.

One of the loudest, several years ago, had been the man sitting at the breakfast table with her. "But-but why?" she asked, furrowing her brows. "You're not their enemy. You're one of them."

"I was." Draco's voice held no shame at saying that to a Muggle-born, at stating to her face that he was a member of a political party devoted to preventing her kind from partaking in wizard society. She supposed she should have expected that. Draco had never made a habit of apologizing for his words or actions, even in school.

She realized he was still speaking and she flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Mister Malfoy. I was thinking of something."

"Another occupation in which you seem to indulge yourself quite often, along with the chatter," he said, his deep voice laced with a wry humor. "As I was saying. I _was_ an Isolationist. Followed my father, as one does. After Scorpius was born, however, I withdrew the majority of my support while I cared for my wife and child. After Astoria's death, I retired completely. I've not been involved with the Isolationists for several years. There are those who see that as a betrayal. If you do not support us, you challenge us, that sort of rubbish. I had my reasons, which I do not care to explain to them, but those reasons intertwine with the offer of employment I made to you yesterday, and with why I, of all people, am willing to have dealings with a Muggle-born."

Draco stood and went to the sideboard, returning to his seat with a small jar of jam and his wand. Hermione held her breath as Draco gripped the slim, elegant rod and pointed it at her. "Miss Granger, the information I am about to impart to you is in the strictest confidence. Only my family and my closest friends are aware of this. I will brook no interference with or risk to my son, and if I feel at any point in this conversation that you may pose a liability, I will Obliviate you, removing not only your memory of this discussion, but of yesterday's events as well. There will be no negotiation on this matter."

Hermione had no need to wonder if Malfoy was serious. The look in his eyes was enough, and when added to that flat, implacable tone, it was more than convincing. He'd played at intimidation when they were in school, with varying success. Now that he was a man, he'd grown into that ability. She knew without question that if she didn't agree to his conditions, he'd follow through on his threat. Any man that focused on his child's safety would not leave her with the memory of a brief greeting in the street, much less a rescue of his son and a visit to his home, if she refused his terms.

For a moment, she contemplated doing just that, if only to see how quickly he would carry through on his threat and to see if she could defend against his spell work, but the memory of what she'd seen the day before stopped her. Draco had charged into that alley like living vengeance, and she had been grateful that his wrath had not been focused on her. She was stubborn and headstrong like most of her housemates had been at Hogwarts, but she was not foolish enough to confront a Slytherin in his own den. "I understand, Mister Malfoy," she said, forcing her voice to seem calm and unaffected. "I will agree to the Obliviation if you feel it necessary." Draco's lips quirked as she spoke and she decided she had not quite been successful in her attempt to refute his intimidating tactics.

Draco watched her in silence for several seconds, then leaned back in his chair, wand tapping on the table. "This is a bit of a long story and I plan to skip over a good portion of it. Do make some attempt at restraining what I remember to be an almost insatiable curiosity, and stop yourself from interrupting me or we'll never get through this.

"I married Astoria when she was fresh out of school. In a rather unusual turn of events, especially for families like ours, it was a love match. On my side. I was quite fond of Astoria, and was more than pleased with the arrangement. I remember she seemed reluctant to make the match, but at the time I thought it was simple modesty, the sort of demure behavior young women are trained into by their doting and marriage-minded mothers. As it turned out, her reluctance was reluctance. Astoria's father owed mine a substantial amount of money, and to cover part of the debt, my father decided to help me out and give me the wife I desired. Perhaps if he'd discussed that with me, it wouldn't have come as such a shock when I learned the truth behind Astoria's agreement to marry me. She had no affection for me. Indeed, there seemed to be no end to the extent of her dislike for me. She agreed to the marriage solely for the money I was able to provide to her family, and, as I learned later, even that agreement came after several weeks of arguments and sulking."

Hermione blinked and busied herself with pouring a cup of tea to hide her surprise. She wasn't surprised that Draco's marriage had been arranged for him or that Astoria had been, for all intents and purposes, sold in marriage to cover her father's debts. It was an unsavory part of life for most women, especially those in the upper echelons of wizarding society, but a common part of life nonetheless. What surprised her was Draco's candor in explaining the particulars of his marriage, and, beyond that, his admittance that he'd loved his wife. That wasn't common, and it wasn't something she'd expected from Draco Malfoy for one moment. He'd been a cold boy in school, and she'd thought he'd grow into a cold man. Love wasn't in that portrait at all.

"I'm sure you've heard plenty of rumors about my wife. Heard several of them from your friend Miss Brown, I have no doubt. Unfortunately, a good many of those were true. Astoria did not come to our wedding bed untouched and over the first couple of years of our marriage, she continued her adventures in romance. At first I was simply infatuated with her enough that I denied the evidence I could see. Then I had spent so much time in denial that I couldn't turn around and confront her without making a greater fool of myself than I already had. The only bright spot to come in those first couple of years was my son." Draco held up one hand before Hermione could speak. "Yes, I am quite certain he is my son, despite my wife's various lovers. Astoria was unfaithful, but no fool. She remained loyal to my bed until we were assured she'd conceived. Don't ascribe any generosity of spirit to her motives, however. Our marriage contract specified that my children would be indisputably mine or her father's debts would not be paid. My father was wise to include that stipulation. I was blinded enough by affection for her that my first son could have been born with Zabini's looks and I wouldn't have noticed."

Draco's eyes hardened as he stared at the past. "Astoria had always been unbalanced, and she grew worse after Scorpius was born. The physician said it was not uncommon to new mothers, the problems with her sleeping and the dark thoughts that plagued her. I turned a blind eye when she took a new lover, even though the man had been one of my closest friends. I thought that perhaps she might find some comfort in him, something that would help to lighten her mind. Unfortunately, that was unsuccessful." Draco's voice tightened and he stared at his fingers and at the elaborate signet ring on his right hand. "Scorpius was sickly as an infant, and I spent much of my time caring for him. He had a wet nurse, but I wasn't about to trust my heir to a stranger. Too many children die in those early years. By the time Scorpius gained enough health that I was able to turn my attention from him, my wife's illness had progressed to the point that it was severe."

Hermione held her teacup in both hands, frozen halfway between the table and her lips. Draco spoke in raw, pain-filled tones. Hermione couldn't fathom why he was explaining all of this to her, unless he intended to Obliviate her afterward regardless of her agreement to his terms. Perhaps he simply needed to tell _someone_. She did her best not to move, to do nothing but breathe, in case he was startled out of his recitation.

"Not long after Scorpius turned four, I needed to come to London for a series of meetings with the Isolationists. I had some concerns about leaving Scorpius with Astoria, but she'd appeared to be in one of her better phases, and I knew that Vincent would be arriving at the house within hours of my departure. Several days passed without incident, then one night, as I was returning from a dinner party, Sadie appeared at the London house in terrible distress. It was impossible to make out what she was saying, but she seemed panicked. Something was wrong at home." Draco fidgeted with his shirt, tugging at the cuffs. "I Apparated immediately, but I was too late. The house was in flames."

Hermione's eyes widened. She remembered that Draco's wife had died in a fire several years before. It had been in all the papers, though only a couple of the less respectable publications had been loathsome enough to print the more lurid details. She recalled that several of the articles had mentioned Draco's attitude after his wife's death. Stoic had been the most polite descriptor. Silent, reclusive, withdrawn - the general assumption was that there had been no love lost in those flames. Hermione, watching Draco now, realized how wrong that assumption had been. Astoria may not have been the perfect wife, may have been adulterous and manipulative, but Draco had loved her at one time.

He cleared his throat and shifted, his chair creaking with the movement. "Everyone knows Astoria died in that fire. What very few people know is that she set it herself." He paused when Hermione gasped, but that didn't seem to count as one of the forbidden interruptions, as he continued speaking. "I arrived to find most of the servants in the drive, along with Scorpius. Sadie was the only one coherent enough to give me an explanation. Astoria had been drinking with Vincent, rather heavily, and at one point, she started to – well, to be blunt, she started ranting. Blaming her father for our marriage in the first place, blaming me for failing to pay enough attention to her, blaming her lovers for leaving her unfulfilled, and even blaming Scorpius for ... existing, essentially. She seemed to place the majority of her problems on his head and she snapped. She Stupefied Vincent, hexed several of the servants, and ran upstairs to the nursery where she blocked the door with an Impenetrable charm. She then turned to Scorpius."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Hermione pretended not to notice that it was a shaky, shuddering breath. She tried to pretend she was invisible, just to keep from distracting Draco from his story. This was something he needed to say, and she had no intentions of doing anything that might stop him.

"According to Sadie," he said after he gathered his control, "she tried to smother him first. Evidently she'd forgotten the charms placed on his bed to prevent suffocation. She was raving, shouting, and Scorpius was crying. He screamed, and Astoria went into hysterics and drew her wand. She aimed straight for Scorpius just as Sadie managed to fight through the charm blocking the doorway. Sadie dove on her, breaking her aim, but Astoria got off the spell. Fiendfyre."

Hermione dropped her teacup, the last dregs and the moist leaves scattering on the carpet. Draco didn't notice. "Sadie said she shoved Astoria, who fell into the fireplace. Sadie snatched up Scorpius and ran. What servants could escape did so, and that's when I arrived. It was too late to stop the Fiendfyre. Far too late. We watched the house burn. Astoria, several of the servants, and Vincent all died."

Draco spun his wand through his fingers and straightened his shoulders. The effort he put into controlling his voice was audible in the tight quality of his enunciation. "So there's the history. Now on to the reason for my retirement from the Isolationists. Scorpius was physically unharmed. Mentally ... well. I'm certain it comes as no surprise that he was terrified. The Healer who examined him called it a traumatic threshold. He was barely able to finish the examination. Every time Scorpius saw the Healer's wand, he screamed. To this day, as a result of his mother's efforts to kill him, Scorpius is horrifically apprehensive. The Healer called it rhabdophobia. Fear of magic. It's taken three years of work, but he's able to handle some aspects of wizarding society now. General magic use around him no longer makes him nearly catatonic, which is an improvement I am most grateful to see, but as you might have noticed yesterday, he tends to have a bit of a problem with wands pointed specifically at him.

"Most members of my family show some evidence of magical ability fairly young. At this point, Scorpius still has not shown any potential for magic." Draco hesitated between words, stammering on several. Hermione couldn't begin to imagine what it must be costing him to say this. From what he was telling her, Scorpius seemed to have no more magic than a Muggle. Draco Malfoy's family was pure-blood for generations, on paternal and especially on maternal lines. Magic was as crucial to their identities and selves as breathing was to their bodies. She couldn't fathom how devastating it must be to Draco that his son, his only heir, was, for all intents and purposes, a Squib.

"That's why you left the Isolationists," she said, unable to remain silent any longer. "You couldn't stay with them. Not with Scorpius, er, not with his-"

"Defect." The word was harsh, almost spat, and for the first time since he'd started speaking, Draco met Hermione's eyes. "The Isolationists have made a century-long battle to prevent weak and non-magical blood from entering our society. I claimed my retirement was to care for my son and to mourn for my wife. Only the former was even slightly true, and even that was not the whole of the truth. I could not possibly remain in an organization devoted to eradicating the non-magical when my own son may never be capable of the smallest charm, despite hundreds of years and generations of wizards in his ancestry."

Draco sat his wand down and leaned forward, his arms on the table and his hands nestled together. His fingers twitched, rubbing over his signet ring. "And so we come to the reason I've bothered to explain all of this to you, and to the reason I've even considered employing a Muggle-born. It is a father's duty and privilege to prepare his son for society and family responsibilities, but if my son is indeed incapable of magic, incapacitated by it on occasion, then he will need to be prepared for a life without it. I love my son. I would do absolutely anything for him, but a world without magic is something of which I have no experience and even less understanding. I'm sure you are quite aware that I do not like Muggle-borns in general, and you in particular. I find you abrasive, priggish, conceited, and lemon-mouthed."

Hermione stomped one foot under the table and felt the spilled tea leaves squish under the heel of her boot. A muffled shriek escaped her before she could press her lips together in efforts to prevent it. That was all the protest she allowed herself, though every fiber in her body wanted her to shout at Draco's pointed face. She held on to her temper with a will that demanded she reward herself with a new book later, damn the expense. "I'm sorry," she said with some aspersion, her teeth gritted as Draco raised an eyebrow at her aborted outburst. "Please continue."

Draco passed his hand across his mouth. Hermione was quite certain he'd done so to hide a smile and she tightened her hands together below the table with such force that she felt one of her gloves tear. Draco waited for several seconds before speaking further.

"However, despite all of that, I remember your skills from school. I do not like you, Miss Granger, but I am a realist, and the reality is that you are one of the best students to ever march through the doors of Hogwarts. You may be conceited, but when it comes to your ability to learn any subject, no matter how strange to you, or to your desire to share your learning with anyone who will hold still for ten seconds, you may be deserving of that conceit.

"Miss Granger, I need someone who can teach my son the particulars of a world I find incomprehensible. You are intelligent, you are Muggle-born, and you are determined in the face of ridiculous odds and defiance. A Malfoy never settles for anything less than the best, no matter the situation, and in this particular instance, I believe you may be the best possible solution to my problem. While I take care of the business of wife-hunting, I want you to take care of Scorpius. Teach him what you can, teach him about a non-magical life. I need you to prepare him for what I cannot."

* * *

The next Monday morning, she reported to the townhouse at seven sharp. She and Draco had come to an agreement that resulted in her avoiding an Obliviation and gaining a position in the household as a tutor. A proper, paid tutor. Hermione had been very clear that she would not be anything so low as a mere nurse or governess. She wasn't going to be one of those harried women who were over-run by their charges simply because the children knew their parents would refuse to do anything. No discipline of any sort, not even so much as a disapproving look. Most children whose families could afford governesses and nurses were children who were ridiculously spoiled.

Like Draco had been, she thought as she divested herself of her bonnet and parasol once Sadie had let her into the house. She made her way up the stairs, creeping past the bedroom that had to be Draco's, judging by the deep sounds coming from behind the door. That pointed nose seemed to be designed for champion snoring. Hermione held one hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles at the thought. The next room, visible through a propped-open door, was a child's bedroom, but was only obvious as such because all the furniture was on a small scale. Hermione noted that there were no candles in the room and the fireplace was blocked up. Scorpius must be chilled at night, but Hermione thought about it for a moment, and her face softened. Better to be chilled than to have the memory of wild, open flames keeping him awake at night or instigating nightmares when he did manage to sleep.

Hermione allowed herself a moment of sorrow, then straightened her shoulders and continued up the next flight of stairs. She'd been hired as a tutor for the boy, not as one of those professional mutes who stood at funerals to look mournful. It was her job to teach and prepare the child, not to feel sorry for him. She would never gain the necessary respect if she moped about like some soppy heroine in a three Knut novel.

She expected the battle for that respect would be a complicated one as it was, since she assumed Scorpius would be much like his father while out of Draco's sight. Arrogant, intractable, difficult. She expected she'd have to hunt the boy down and drag him kicking and shrieking to the schoolroom, but she planned to get the place ready first. If she had a proper environment prepared for the work of learning, it would be easier to deal with a sulky child.

When she opened the door to the schoolroom, she realized she was going to need to adjust her assumptions. Toss them completely out the window, really. Scorpius sat at a small desk, hands folded together, with a neat stack of parchments and a collection of sharpened quills lined up beside an inkwell. As soon as she stepped into the room and shut the door, he jumped up and stood beside his chair, hands behind his back. He made a short bow and a tentative smile. "Good morning, Miss Granger. Papa told me that you agreed to take employment as my tutor. He explained things to me."

Hermione suspected Draco hadn't actually _explained_ to Scorpius, but had given the child an explanation he could handle. She didn't think Draco had told Scorpius that she was hired primarily to teach him about a non-magic life. Even a Malfoy of only seven years was still a Malfoy, and there were few people in England who were more proud. Hermione gave Scorpius a small smile and set her reticule on the large desk at the front of the room. She was careful to keep her wand well out of sight. It wouldn't do to upset the boy on the first day. "Good morning, Scorpius. You may sit. I'd like to begin with an informal examination, to determine where we should start our lessons. Do you know your letters and numbers?"

Scorpius gave her a look so much like his father's most skeptical expression that she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "Yes, Miss Granger. I can read and do simple sums. After Mummy--" He hesitated, taking a breath that quavered, but set his shoulders and raised his chin. "After Mummy died, Papa hired several nurses for me. They all insisted on letters and numbers, but that's as far as we ever lasted. None stayed since I'm.... None stayed."

Hermione wanted to flinch at the strength of the bitterness that came from such a small child. Draco most likely hired witches, and probably pure-blood ones. Arrogant, stiff-necked, sanctimonious witches who couldn't deal with a child without magic. From Scorpius' manner and words, he knew he was a Squib, and Hermione wondered with some anger which of those nurses had been cruel enough to disparage the child and shove that pain in his face. "I'm staying," she said, lifting her chin as much as Scorpius had, "and we'll skip over letters and sums if you've already covered those. No sense in wasting time and effort on something you already know. We'll set new goals for you."

Scorpius smiled at her, his eyes shining nearly as bright as his hair. "That's just what Papa says. Don't dwell, excel."

Hermione nodded, pleased - and slightly disturbed to be pleased about agreeing with anything Draco espoused. Still, if it helped Scorpius learn and improve, she could work with it.

They spent the morning going over various subjects. Hermione discovered that Scorpius had a good base in arithmetic, reading, geography, and astronomy, as well as a surprisingly neat hand for a boy of his age. He even spoke decent French, though his vocabulary needed expansion and his accent could be improved. His weaknesses were few but telling. Scorpius had almost no grounding in botany or zoology, his knowledge of science was non-existent, and he had the barest understanding of history or genealogy. Hermione wasn't surprised. There were certain topics that would be difficult for a magical person to teach in a non-magical way. Plants and herbs without reference to their uses in potions? History without the influence of wizards and witches throughout? Understandable, she thought.

But inexcusable. His previous teachers had simply not tried hard enough. She wouldn't fail him as they had.

Hermione set Scorpius to copying out the only primer she could find that didn't involve Wilbur the Wizard or Eunice the Unicorn, while she made a preliminary curriculum. She became involved in creating schedules and lists, cross-referenced on separate sheets of parchment, in both alphabetical and chronological order, and written up in multiple colors of ink for daily, weekly, and monthly use. She resisted the temptation to dance in her chair as she entertained herself with her organizing efforts, though she did give in for a moment when she managed to solve a vexing problem. She lost herself so deeply in her work that she didn't realize how much time had passed until she felt a presence beside her. She looked up from her Thursday lesson plan to see Scorpius standing at the end of her desk.

"Miss Granger, may we break for luncheon, please?"

Hermione blinked, then looked at the watch pinned to the sash of her gown. "Good heavens. My apologies, Scorpius, I didn't realize it was that late." She set down her quill and rubbed the cramp out of her fingers. "Would you like to take a walk in the park? We could have our first botany lesson after we eat."

His face brightened, his eyes going wide with anticipation. "Oh yes, that would be brilliant!" Just as Hermione started to feel pleased with herself for being such a successful teacher on her first professional attempt, Scorpius caught his breath and looked down. Hermione had to make some effort not to reach out to him and brush his fringe out of his eyes, especially after he spoke again. His voice held a thick disappointment. "Papa won't agree to that. He doesn't like it if I leave the house without him."

Hermione pushed her chair back and gave Scorpius a long look. Draco had his reasons to be concerned, but he shouldn't be keeping the child locked up while he was off rummaging through the marriage market. She clapped her hands in decision, picked up her reticule, and stood. "What your father doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides, he can hardly object to a lesson, can he? That's why I'm here, after all. We'll have Sadie fetch my things and we'll be off."

They returned after an hour with a basket full of flowers and leaves. Scorpius had sun-reddened cheeks, Hermione had grass-stained gloves, and they both had wide, beaming smiles. Scorpius bounded up the front steps ahead of Hermione and reached for the door handle. The door swung open before he could touch it, and Hermione clutched her collar as Scorpius hopped back down one stair. In the shadows of the townhouse's front hallway, a shape moved. The faint hope that it was Sadie faded as Draco stepped forward into the sunlight. "Scorpius." Hermione shuddered as the chill of his voice poured down her spine. "Go upstairs. I have to speak with Miss Granger in private."

Scorpius glanced over his shoulder at Hermione, then slipped past Draco, brushing against the door to avoid brushing against his father. Hermione had to force herself to approach the door, with her heart pounding and the basket clenched in both hands. The expression on Draco's face was hard, and his eyes looked like mercury -- molten and poisonous. "Draco. Mister Malfoy, I can explain."

He drew up to his full height and looked at her down his nose. "I doubt that. The library, Miss Granger. You have five minutes to wash up and meet me there. I suggest you do not dawdle, but do not miss the dirt on your cheek. I have little patience for the slovenly."

She gaped after him as he spun and left her on the street, then she yelped and rushed inside as the door started to close. She pushed her bonnet and basket into Sadie's hands, rushed to discard her ruined gloves and wash her face, then hurried into the library with a minute to spare. Draco sat behind an imposing desk, one eyebrow lifted at her undignified entrance. "Mister Malfoy, if you'll just give me a moment to ex--"

"No." Draco stared at her. Hermione tried not to notice that his fingers looked like claws gripping the padded arms of his chair. "I will not give you a moment to explain, Miss Granger. I will give you several. I'm certain you will need all of them to explain why I had to leave my club in a great hurry after an acquaintance of mine let it slip that on his way through the park, he'd seen a young boy who looked very much like my son in the company of a woman he did not recognize. Then once you have finished with that explanation, perhaps you can explain why this may have bothered me, considering that not a week has passed since my son was attacked in broad daylight by a group of men who would cheerfully bring harm to the child of a man who abandoned their politics, simply so they could prove a point. Perhaps, Miss Granger, you can then explain how you will manage to find new employment anywhere in the whole of England once I have let my friends and my business associates know that you are a reckless and indecent woman who cannot be trusted with the responsibility over a twig, much less a child, for even one day!"

By the time he finished his speech, he was shouting, standing, both hands pressed to the leather blotter on the desk, a parchment wrinkled and crumpled under his fingers. Hermione twisted her hands together, her shoulders hunching with each word he spat at her. Of course. Of _course_. How could she have been so thoughtless? How could she have not seen how this would look to Draco? She'd only thought of making Scorpius happy, of making a good impression so that the child would be pleased and give a glowing report of her efforts to Draco. Only thought that maybe Draco would see what a professional job she'd done and be in spirits satisfied enough to keep her on. See how much worth even a Muggle-born could be, how much worth his supposedly non-magical son could be, given a chance.

And now she'd ruined it. She'd angered her employer, ruined her own chances, and worst of all, she'd lied to Scorpius. She'd told Scorpius that she would be staying, that she'd teach him to the best of her abilities, but if Draco terminated her employment for this, all of that would be gone. "Mister Malfoy. I understand that you're upset. But if you'd give me a chance to explain. If you could have seen what a wonderful time Scorpius and I had out in the park. He looked so happy."

"Miss Granger, I am not some schoolboy weeping over a broken quill or an essay two inches too short. I am not upset. I am bloody furious, and you will have to put some effort into convincing me that I should not have you arrested for abducting my son."

* * *

"No, Ginny, you don't understand. He was irate. I've never seen him so angry. I've never seen anyone so angry. He actually swore at me. Good heavens, I thought he was going to draw his wand on me right then and there."

"Draw his wand?" Ginny looked up from the bolt of fabric she'd been examining and grinned at Hermione, lifting her eyebrows and waggling them with such force that her white cap shifted. "Or draw his _wand_?"

"Ginevra Weasley Potter!" Hermione felt her cheeks flame at the saucy touch Ginny put on the words, and she looked to see if the shop clerk was in earshot. She busied herself with a box of buttons, studiously not meeting Ginny's eyes. "I cannot believe you would say that."

"Do come off it, Hermione." Ginny moved to the next bolt, a pale yellow muslin sprigged with a thin and twining pattern in green. "He's a striking man, with an excellent leg. No one can deny that. You can't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"I haven't! Ginny, he might be striking, but he's my employer. That's not even taking into consideration that he's immensely wealthy and high-toned, and I could no more entertain the idea of thinking about him, it, than I could fathom the idea that anyone like him, would look at an impoverished Muggle-born."

"I didn't say crawl into the man's bed. Not that man, at least," Ginny said, and huffed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "I'm saying you could think about some companionship. At least _think_. It would be a nice change for you to actually show some consideration towards male company." She laid one hand on her rounded stomach and her brows knotted.

Hermione watched with some concern. Ginny was her closest friend and Hermione could see that this pregnancy was much more rough on her than the first had been, even though she was barely four months along. Hermione put her hand on Ginny's arm and opened her mouth, but Ginny shook her off before she could speak. "I'm fine," she said, her voice soft. "Just a cramp. Don't worry about it, please."

She made an obvious effort to brighten up and patted Hermione's hand before returning her attention to the fabrics on the display table. "No changing the subject, either. We were talking about you and how you should be looking for some male company. It's nice that you spend so much time with me and with Lavender and with all your other girlfriends, but you should be looking for a little more than that."

"Ginny."

"Hermione. It's been four years."

Hermione dropped a spool of thread. It bounced off the table and rolled across the shop, but Hermione failed to notice that or the clerk scrambling after the spool as she counted up in her head. Had it truly been that long? It didn't seem possible, but when she thought about it, she realized that Ginny was right. Four years. "That's not a concern right now. I have too much else in my life to think about, and I can't worry about that. I have my finances to consider, for one, and my plan to take care of that, and that's what we were discussing regardless. I was trying to tell you how I convinced Mister Malfoy to let me keep my position as a tutor for Scorpius. You're not allowed to change the subject either."

Ginny eyed her for a moment, then laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "If you say so. My apologies. How did you stop the dragon from eating the fair damsel?"

Hermione poked through a selection of ribbons to delay her answer, then sighed and rolled her eyes at herself. No sense in putting off the inevitable, and she was certain Ginny would be amused by the situation. Her friend needed a little laughter these days. "I didn't, actually. Mister Malfoy was on the verge of letting me go. Nothing I said was getting through to him. As a matter of fact, I was getting so frustrated that I was about to offer to hold still while he Obliviated me. Anything would have been better than letting him continue to lecture me. I would have taken the Obliviation just to forget that hour _alone_, much less the entire process of running into him at Mister Chapman's and getting hired on in the first place. Then it happened.

"We were in the library, and the door burst open. Scorpius came charging in. He was dragging a little trunk behind him. A trunk, Ginny. He'd gone and _packed_. He had his cap on, he had his cloak on, and he had his trunk packed! Mister Malfoy and I were both so stunned that neither of us could speak. Scorpius marched straight up to his father and crossed his arms, and I swear to you, now I know exactly what Mister Malfoy looked like when he was seven years old. The resemblance is so remarkable I wouldn't be surprised if the Malfoy men all sprouted from the same seed without the benefit of a woman's womb involved. Scorpius gave Mister Malfoy the hardest stare I have ever seen from an adult, much less a child, and informed him in no uncertain terms that it had been his idea to go to the park and that he'd told me that it would be all right, and that he was allowed to go on adventures."

Ginny blinked at her, a length of muslin forgotten in her hands. Hermione nodded, answering the question Ginny seemed too dumbstruck to ask. "I was startled, too. Scorpius told his father that bald-faced lie, then kept right on going. Scorpius said that if Mister Malfoy was planning to let me go, then he was planning to come with me. He said he'd learned more in one day with me than he'd learned in months with any of his previous instructors. He then proceeded to tell Mister Malfoy the names - full, scientific names - of every plant we'd gathered that day, and to recite every tiny little bit of information I'd taught him. The child is practically a Pensieve all on his own, Ginny. He didn't get a single fact wrong and I would almost take an oath that he was actually using my voice to do it. You know Mister Malfoy was always cutting up at Hogwarts with mimicries. Scorpius clearly inherited that along with his father's looks."

Ginny gave up any pretense of looking at fabrics and turned to face Hermione with her arms folded atop the small bulge of her abdomen. "What on earth did he do? Clearly he didn't explode in rage or Transfigure you into anything."

"Mister Malfoy is...." Hermione rubbed her forehead and pushed a loose curl back under her bonnet. "He's surprising, really. Especially when it comes to his son. Ginny, when he's around Scorpius, he's a different man. None of that arrogance or irritability he showed so much of in school. He's a touch on the--" She managed to stop herself from blurting out any words related to 'bitter' though it was a close race. "The reticent side when it comes to more sensitive topics, but there's none of that reticence about Scorpius. He loves his son, Ginny, really loves his son, and he truly wants the boy to have whatever he can provide to make him happy.

"When Scorpius stood there with that determined look on his face, and told his father in that serious little voice that he was going to, in essence, run away with me, I was horrified. I thought for certain that Mister Malfoy was going to accuse me of trying to corrupt the boy, but he settled back in his chair and gave Scorpius a long look. Then he said that he appreciated Scorpius' honesty, and that he was going to take that into consideration, and that he had not yet decided to terminate my employment. That set Scorpius off again. 'Not yet, Papa?' he asked, and he drew himself up just as Mister Malfoy always did when he was offended in school. You remember."

Ginny plastered both hands over her mouth as Hermione straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin in imitation, but her giggles were barely muffled by her gloves. Ginny's eyes shone with amusement. Hermione decided it was worth telling any amount of stories if it amused Ginny enough that the small hint of pain in her expression was able to disappear, if just for a short while. "It took Mister Malfoy a few minutes to calm Scorpius down, and he finally had to outright promise the boy that I would be allowed to keep my position, and he confessed that he'd had no intention of letting me go from the start. He'd just wanted me to understand the seriousness of the situation. Then he sent Scorpius back upstairs, waited a couple of moments, and burst into laughter. He laughed so hard his eyes started to water, muttered something about the absurdity of it all, and gave me the rest of the day free. I'm due back in the morning, as long as henceforth I give him warning when I intend to take Scorpius out on 'adventures'."

* * *

  
That evening, in her apartments in Diagon Alley, Hermione contemplated the day's events as she prepared her bath. She had truly thought that she was about to lose her position, possibly her memory as well, if not for Scorpius and his absolute determination to keep her. She couldn't begin to imagine how she'd managed to gain the child's loyalty in such a short period of time. Less than a full day, and Scorpius liked her enough that he was willing to lie to his own father? Hermione thought it over as she filled her large copper tub with a circle of her wand. She'd not done much during the lessons that morning beyond teaching. He had been very quiet, barely raising his eyes, much less his voice, even when she asked him a direct question.

"Little boys are not to interrupt," he told her when she couldn't take it any longer and prodded him to be more active. Scorpius had used his talent for mimicry again, and she could hear the pompous voice of one of his former instructors in every inflection. "Little boys do not know anything and must be quiet and listen when the teacher is speaking."

Hermione heated her water with a quick charm before piling the mass of her dark curls up on the crown of her head and securing the loose bun with her wand. It had taken her a little time to convince Scorpius that she not only wanted him to ask questions and get involved in the full process of learning, but that she expected it from him. "I expect you to excel, Scorpius, and I will do my best to see that you do. I'm already quite proud of your work." The way his eyes had brightened made her want to smile.

Still, getting the child to enjoy himself and participate in his own education shouldn't have been enough for his performance in the library, she thought. For a confrontation, however small, with his father. Scorpius might not be in Hogwarts, might never go, but he was only too obviously a Slytherin like Draco and Lucius before him. Every Slytherin she'd ever met had an intense loyalty and sense of protectiveness to their families; Draco had certainly demonstrated that recently, and she expected Scorpius was very much the same. It was more surprising that he had lied to his father than that he'd lied for a Muggle-born, and that in itself was surprising enough.

Hermione tipped her head back against the rim of the tub. Perhaps there was something in the way she treated him, as though he were actually a valuable member of society despite his abilities or any supposed lack thereof, but she felt that she could hardly do any less. She, of all people, knew what it was like to be looked down on and mistreated because of magic. She was the obverse face of the wizarding coin to Scorpius, but they both earned the same treatment. A Muggle-born with magic the pure-bloods felt she didn't deserve, and a pure-blood who might never be a wizard. Hermione felt sorry for the child and wanted him to have every chance.

She held her hair in place to draw her wand and heat the bathwater again, then twisted it back into her curls. Her thoughts drifted as she closed her eyes and relaxed. The conversation with Ginny came up in her mind. Four years. Had it truly been four years since things had ended with Ron?

Draco had said he'd married Astoria straight out of school, and Hermione had planned the same. No one was surprised. Ronald Weasley, one of her closest friends, one of the few people who'd accepted her when she first arrived at Hogwarts. It had been easy to fall into things with him.

Hermione furrowed her brows. No, it hadn't been easy, when she thought about it. They'd had their problems all through school. Ron's eyes had wandered, and it wasn't always because of other young witches. He could never be content with what he had. The youngest son of his family, Ron always seemed to feel that everyone had already accomplished everything before him. One brother was famous for his work in magi-zoology; one had gone off to Egypt and made several advances in his field. Another was a Ministry official. Even his little sister had been well-liked and popular enough that Ron was often referred to as 'Ginny's brother', and then she'd gone and married his best friend in the bargain.

Ron had never been happy with his own accomplishments, and never really applied himself to anything but envy. Hermione remembered any number of arguments and fights in school – with her, with his siblings, with Harry. Hermione heard young Scorpius' voice in the back of her mind. _Don't dwell, excel_. Ron had certainly seemed to excel at dwelling. Sometimes it had seemed that his best skill was in blaming others for what he felt were his own lacks.

He'd done what he could to make himself stand out, but she'd suspected even when they were young that it wasn't enough for him. She remembered seeing the tension in his shoulders whenever yet another one of their acquaintances brought up Charles or William or Percy or any of his brothers, remembered seeing the muscles in his jaw tighten when she received top marks at school or Harry earned accolades for his abilities at Quidditch. Ron had been desperate to prove himself. When he thought he'd found his chance, he'd gone after it. Gone after it with all the determination he could muster, without listening to his family, his friends, or his fiancee.

Hermione rubbed her forehead and ordered herself not to sniffle. Four years had gone by and there was no use crying over it now. He'd made his choice, and she'd had her tears then. She had other concerns now. She had her financial worries to solve, and Scorpius to teach. Ron hadn't been her concern for a long while, and he wouldn't be now. She would not allow him to distract her when he was far away. No reason for it at all.

* * *

Several weeks passed without incident. Hermione and Scorpius worked through the lesson plans right on schedule. She was quite impressed with his progress, she had to admit, and when she went to make her regular report to Draco, she had to struggle not to bounce into the library. "Mister Malfoy, you would not believe the improvement Scorpius has made in the past few weeks. He's made such great strides, truly. I'm absolutely astonished by the difference. I can't even tell you."

Draco looked up from a stack of cards and invitations, blinking at her. "I find that difficult to believe, Miss Granger, considering you managed to take up quite a few words just now." He tossed his quill down and leaned back in his chair. He flexed his fingers and rubbed his knuckles as he looked at her. "Go on, then. Give me a progress report. Do try to remember to breathe at regular intervals, however. I would prefer not to have my son's tutor sprawled out on my floor."

Hermione gave him a suspicious look, checking for the merest hint of a smile, but Draco kept a straight face despite what she felt was a teasing tone. She pushed that aside and launched into a recitation of Scorpius' achievements for the week. It took several minutes as she paced in front of Draco's desk, her hands fluttering like Snitches while she spoke. "And he knows every king of England back to Elizabeth, though he does get a little tripped up over the dates for Lady Jane Grey, but I can hardly blame him for that since she was only a queen for nine days, and it's easy to get confused."

"Miss Granger, would you please take a seat and hold still? You're making me rather dizzy." Draco gestured to a chair in front of his desk. "I couldn't help but notice that not one of the lessons you described so far involved anything magical. Kings of England? What about the history of the Wizengamot and the succession of the Supreme Mugwumps?"

Hermione arranged her skirts as she sat, then cocked her head and looked at Draco with some aspersion. "You were clear that I was hired specifically because I could teach Scorpius about the aspects of life that did not involve magic, Mister Malfoy. If I were to cover those topics, I'd be no better than his previous teachers who spent most of their time reminding him of how useless he'd be in a magical world. He's happy right now. He's learning so much and he feels good about himself. He's excelling. I should think you'd concentrate on that rather than on the subjects I'm not teaching that he can't use."

Draco steepled his fingers in front of his chin and stared at her for a long minute, then nodded and made a flicking gesture. "You're quite right. Pray continue, but make it quick. I still have a dozen invitations to accept and a dinner party this evening to dread." He examined one of the invitations on his desk and flipped it into the fireplace. "Not accepting that one, however. The family is desperate to marry their daughter off."

"I would think that would be one of the first on your list," Hermione said. "Thought you were rather desperate to get oh good heavens." She pressed her hands to her cheeks, feeling her skin burn. She couldn't believe she'd said that to his face. "Mister Malfoy, I am so sorry. It's not my place to say such things."

"No, it is not." Draco rubbed his temples, his hand spread across his forehead. "Though it was accurate. The problem is that the family are Isolationists. Not a viable option, as I'm sure you can understand."

Hermione hid a grimace as Draco stood and pushed the invitation further into the fireplace with a long iron poker. "They've been quiet," he said, eyes focused on the ashes, "which is never a good sign. It means they're planning something, and that leads me to something rather important. Miss Granger, I know you and I have had our differences of opinion when it comes to these little excursions you enjoy taking Scorpius on, but I believe this weekend they will be of some benefit.

"I've been invited to a house party outside of the city and I cannot back out. Scorpius can't come with me and under no circumstances will I leave him here with no one but Sadie and the rest of the house-elves to watch over him. I would settle him with my parents, but my father...." Draco shook his head, the long tail of his hair brushing over his shoulders. "Out of the question. I need to ask a favor of you, Miss Granger. It's highly irregular and on the verge of scandalous."

"I'll stay with him."

Draco stilled when Hermione answered his question before he asked it, and he turned to face her, his eyes narrowed with evident confusion. "I do beg your pardon?"

Hermione tugged at the lace on her sleeves and restrained the urge to chew on her lower lip. In the face of Draco's expression, her impulsive offer seemed a little ill-thought, but she forged ahead with a deep breath. "I'll stay with him. I'm not concerned about scandal. I've gone through enough in my life that it no longer has any effect on me. I would be just as worried about Scorpius as I'm sure you will be, and I can't abide the notion of leaving him to some relative stranger. It would only be for a few days, yes?" He nodded, slowly, and Hermione clapped her hands. "Settled, then. You go to the house party and I'll stay here with Scorpius. Perhaps we'll finally be able to get in a little astronomy practice if the winds are kind enough to blow the smog off the city. I can have my trunk here before you leave."

She met Draco's eyes and this time she saw that small glimmer of humor she'd expected when she first walked into the library that afternoon. "What are you grinning at?" she asked, and folded her arms with a huff.

"You, Miss Granger. I had planned to ask that you take Scorpius on one of your adventures and possibly find a place to stay, but you came up with a better plan. I'd rather have him here, where I know he's safer and where he's comfortable. But that's not the amusing part. You skipped right over the potential blow to your reputation and dove headlong into the possibility of getting to teach something to my son. You might have made a fine Ravenclaw." He pushed away from the fireplace and reclaimed his seat, the small hint of humor becoming a full-blown grin.

Hermione held her breath as she realized Ginny had been right. He was very striking, especially when he smiled. This was turning out to be ill-thought, but she couldn't back down. She couldn't leave Scorpius to someone else, someone who didn't understand him, someone who would treat him as though he was defective because he hadn't displayed any magical ability. Draco would be gone, and she didn't need to worry about whether or not he was striking. She could focus on Scorpius.

* * *

Scorpius seemed thrilled to have her all to himself for a few days. He was dressed and in the breakfast room early each morning, and rushed up the stairs to the schoolroom almost before he'd finished chewing his toast. They spent each day in lessons with breaks for luncheon and tea, and had quiet dinners before she read Scorpius a story at bedtime. Hermione was constantly impressed with the quickness of the child's mind. He learned every lesson so well, so rapidly that sometimes she felt as though he was figuring out what she wanted to teach him even before she knew what she was planning to say. Scorpius went to bed each night with a huge smile and a jubilant 'thank you, Miss Granger!' and Hermione went to bed with a light heart and a deep sense of satisfaction. She curled up under the magic-warmed linens and slept in peace.

She dreamt of a wide smile and deep grey eyes, of pale blond hair that looked like it would hold the soft warmth of ermine if she dared to touch it, of a deep voice that said her name with need.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione sat up in bed, her heart pounding, her nightgown clutched at her throat. She stared into the darkness of the bedroom, disoriented by the voice that had seemed so familiar, so similar to her dream. The bedroom door creaked and a thin flicker of light came through with the voice again. "Miss Granger?"

"Draco?" She whispered it, then realized the voice was too high, too young. "Scorpius? What's the matter?"

He pushed the door open and hovered on the threshold, his thin form outlined by the light from the sconces in the corridor. Hermione's eyes widened. She flung her blankets off and jumped out of bed, rushing to the door. "Scorpius, what do you need? What's wrong?"

She crouched to his level and held her hands out to Scorpius. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her neck. "Miss Granger," he muttered, his voice trembling as much as his tiny body. "Miss Granger, something's wrong with Papa."

Hermione felt her heart stutter at the fear in his words, but she stroked his back as she murmured reassurances. "It was a nightmare, Scorpius. I'm certain your father is fine. There's no need to be upset. He's coming home tomorrow, don't you worry."

"No. _No_." He drew back, shaking his head so violently she was afraid he'd rattle his brain loose. "No, Miss Granger, something's wrong. He's coming home and something's wrong and you have to help him. Like you helped me. Please, Miss Granger, _please_."

Hermione's heart went out to the frightened boy and she gave him a tight hug. He needed comfort after a nightmare like that. What little boy wouldn't be terrified after dreaming something had happened to the only parent he had? She'd promise to leap the moon if it would remove that fear from his eyes. "Come along, Scorpius. We'll check the house and you'll see that your father isn't here and that nothing's wrong. Then I'll put you back to bed with your kitten and you'll wake up in the morning feeling much better. Can you do that for me? I promise, your father will be fine."

It took several repetitions, several more reassurances, and a full search of the house from below stairs to the schoolroom but after an hour, Scorpius was yawning and letting Hermione carry him to bed. She settled him into the pillows and tugged the blankets up to his shoulders. "Go to sleep, Scorpius," she murmured to him as she brushed his fringe back. "Your father will be home tomorrow and you'll see that everything will be fine. I give you my promise on that, and I haven't broken a promise ever. You can trust me."

He looked up at her, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight from the sconces in the corridor. "I trust you, Miss Granger. You rescued me and my kitten and you kept us safe for Papa. So you'll keep Papa safe for me. I know you will." He closed his eyes and sighed, one hand reaching out to pat the kitten's tail.

Hermione waited until his breathing evened out and deepened, with miniature versions of Draco's snores coming from that miniature version of Draco's nose. Hermione patted his hair again, smiling, then sneaked out of his room. She meant to go straight back to her own bed, but the house made a soft noise as it settled, and her imagination rumbled. She changed her mind about going to bed. One more check of the house couldn't hurt, and she'd be able to go to bed with a clear mind.

She went upstairs to look over the schoolroom, then prowled through each floor, looking in every room. She even checked in the larder, though she giggled at herself for it. No one was in the house except for her, Scorpius, and the handful of house-elves that Draco kept as servants. Sadie offered to make her a warm drink or a small bite of toast and meat to settle her for bed. Hermione thanked her and refused. She was a little surprised that the offer had come at all since she'd thought Sadie still hated her, but appreciated the offer nonetheless.

Hermione made her way upstairs, and paused at the top of the steps. The sconces in the corridor were still lit, and the candle in her room was still burning, but what caught her attention was the light in Draco's room. She was convinced she hadn't taken a candle in there while checking the house, and even if she had, she would have taken it out as soon as she left the room. No open, unattended fires anywhere in the house, not with Scorpius' nightmares.

Hermione peeked into the room, her breath held, with Scorpius' fearful dream fluttering through her mind. No noise, no movement, nothing but the candles burning atop the mantelpiece. She looked around, scolding herself for the unreasonable anxiety and for letting Scorpius' worries affect her, then sneaked into the room to blow the candles out. As the room fell into darkness, a sound came from the bathing chamber and Hermione whipped around, clutching her nightgown at her throat. "The kitten," she murmured to herself with a faint sense of hope. "It's just the kitten. Or one of the house-elves. Nothing to worry about. You're being ridiculous. You left candles burning because you were worried about Scorpius. Go and look and you'll see that you're being silly for no reason."

She drew her shoulders up, straightened her nightgown, and took a deep breath that strangled in her throat when a shape moved in the shadows of the bathing chamber. Her heart raced at the realization that she'd left her wand in her room, and she grabbed a candlestick off the mantle. "S-stop," she squeaked. She cleared her throat and lifted the candlestick over her head. "Stop. Whoever you are, don't-- I warn you."

"Don't what, Miss Granger?" Hermione squeaked again as the floor creaked and Draco leaned against the door frame. "I'm terribly curious to know what you thought I was going to do in my house that required you to bash me with a candlestick."

She fumbled to put it down and fold her arms across her chest. Despite the darkened room and the thick flannel of her nightgown, she was still aware that she was standing in her nightclothes in a man's bedroom in the middle of the night. She was pleased it was dark; it kept Draco from seeing the blush on her face. "I was about to bash a prowler," she said, keeping her voice from shaking only by sheer effort of will. "You aren't due home until tomorrow. Scorpius will be very pleased to see you, don't mistake me, but if you were coming home early, the least you could have done was send an owl."

"My apologies for disturbing your rest, Miss Granger, but what's done is done. You may go back to bed and I will see you in the morning."

"You didn't disturb me. I was already awake." Hermione spoke over her shoulder as she moved to the door. "Scorpius had a bad dream that something horrible had happened to you and he wanted me to promise I'd help you. It took me forever to get him back to sleep."

"Stop." Hermione froze with her hand on the door frame as Draco walked up behind her. She could feel him staring at her back and she wished she'd been just a little quicker at closing the door. "Say that again. Scorpius had a nightmare?"

She chewed her lip, then turned around. Draco was wearing an untucked shirt without cravat, and his hair was loose to fall around his shoulders. She'd caught him in the middle of changing for bed, and she flushed again at the thought. It was always inappropriate to think of a man in undress, doubly so while in his presence, and triply so when she was supposed to be concentrating on his son and said child's nightmares. She fastened her eyes on his shoulder and explained what had happened from the moment Scorpius had woken her up.

Draco listened in silence, his eyes darkening as she described what she knew of Scorpius' dream. "He said something was wrong with me. Something had happened?" He turned away and paced across the room, running his hands through his hair.

"Boys can have odd dreams, Mister Malfoy. It's not so unusual, especially if you were spending time away. You're the only parent he has. It could only be expected that he would be frightened for you while you were gone. I'm actually quite impressed that he held up so well _this_ long." They'd been busy with lessons and studying and the occasional game or story time that Scorpius had barely had time to think about Draco's absence. Hermione had kept him occupied deliberately, and it had seemed to work until that night.

Draco lit a candle over the fireplace, then tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the bed. Hermione yelped and spun around. "Mister Malfoy! Good heavens, wait until I leave the room, please!"

"Stop," he said for the second time, and for the second time Hermione froze. "Something concerns me, Miss Granger. Something about Scorpius' dream. Something bad happened to me."

"It was a dream, Mister Malfoy. A _dream_. Nothing to worry about, nothing to be concerned about, just a dream." Draco's hand fell on her shoulder and Hermione jerked away, turning as she moved. She clapped both hands over her mouth when she saw him standing behind her, shirtless and with a large bruise crossing his chest from shoulder to hip.

"I'm afraid it wasn't just a dream." Draco held his hands wide, displaying another set of bruises along his ribs and on the underside of one arm. "You promised to help me, I believe?"

* * *

Keeping Scorpius asleep was all that stopped Hermione from shrieking at the sight of the bruises on Draco's torso; keeping her head was all that put her scolding, frantic 'what in God's name' lecture on hold while she pushed Draco into a chair by the fireplace. She lit every candle in the room with snaps of Draco's wand as she called for Sadie. "Linen bandages, arnica paste. A bowl of warm water, clean cloths, and some brandy." She chivvied the house-elf out the door with a stern warning to make certain Scorpius got no hint of the goings-on, then spun to shake a finger at Draco.

"What happened? What sort of depraved things went on at that house party? Did you get up to some kind of wild bacchanalia? I've heard rumors of what goes on at those pure-blood entertainments. Did you and your cronies collect a flock of Cyprians and have a dissolute weekend? Courtesans and debauchery and unbridled licentiousness? What were you thinking? Get tired of searching for a demure bride and decide to get your wand polished for a few days? Never figured you for the type who liked a little flogging, and I hope you keep _that_ peccadillo away from your son, but whoever she was, you shouldn't have let her strike you that hard."

"Miss Granger, as fascinating as this diatribe is, and as impressed as I am that you have such an extensive vocabulary when it comes to profligate behavior, I do have to insist that your imagination be kept on a leash. You're completely wrong, and completely irritating, and I'm in a bit of pain at the moment, so do shut up." Hermione snapped her jaw shut as Draco shifted in his chair, his pointed face twisting in a grimace. He pressed one hand to his ribs and took a breath that turned into a whimper halfway through. "That's not why I went to that house party."

"Master?" Sadie stepped into the room, bringing a tray with all the supplies Hermione had requested. After Sadie set the tray down, she went straight to Draco's side and twisted her fingers together, her large and watery eyes focused on his face. "Master will be wantings the new one fed and rested? Is she beings trained for the house or the estate?"

"I don't know yet, Sadie. I'll interview her tomorrow, most likely, and then we'll see from there. You may go for the night. Get some rest as well." He gestured Sadie away and turned his attention to Hermione for a moment before his eyes went straight to the brandy bottle. "Good thinking. Bring that here, Miss Granger."

Hermione stepped in front of the bottle and folded her arms. This time, she had no concern for covering up her nightdress, but folded her arms to keep from tossing her hands up in frustration or wrapping them around Draco's shoulders and shaking him into some semblance of co-operation. "You're not getting this bottle until you explain a few things to me. What new one? What training? Why did you go to the party and why are you bruised like you've been in some bizarre sort of pugilism display?"

Draco held one hand up as if to ward off the barrage of questions, then rolled his eyes and tipped his head back against the chair. "Once or twice a year, some of the men of my club hold a house party, by invitation only, and that is strictly enforced. It's an opportunity to forge some business and political alliances, to arrange a few marriages or affairs. And at some point, it's an opportunity to go hunting. Unfortunately, some of the men have, over the past few years, become quite a bit bored with fox or quail hunting. They prefer a quarry with a little more intelligence, one that's a little more difficult to find."

Hermione chewed at her lip, not liking the direction that Draco's tale was drifting. "You're saying that they...."

"I'm saying that they take a house-elf out into the woods, set it loose with orders to run, and chase it to ground. If the elf reaches the boundaries of the estate, it is usually set free. To be quite honest, I'm not certain which ending is more cruel. Turn it loose without any recourse to shelter, food, or employment, or just kill it straight off." Draco spoke so casually that Hermione wanted to slap him, but then he looked up, and she saw something in his eyes that was more than the pain of his bruises. "I rescued Sadie eight years ago. This year, I may have just found the beekeeper I've been needing, if she's capable of the work."

"You rescue house-elves. Mister Malfoy, I have been forced to reconsider many of my opinions about pure-bloods in general and you in particular over the past couple of months, but I find it incomprehensible that you have any sort of soft spot for house-elves." Hermione reached behind her, fumbled for the brandy bottle, and took a swig. Draco's startled expression was almost worth the coughing fit that the heat and taste of the brandy brought on. She needed to distract herself from the expanse of Draco's bare chest, glowing in the candlelight even with the scattered bruises. Needed to stop staring at his pale blond hair draped over his shoulders and the pale pink discs of his-- Hermione took another drink and thumped the bottle back onto the tray. She needed to focus.

"I don't have a soft spot for house-elves." Draco's voice was just this side of sulky, and he pointed imperiously at the brandy bottle. Hermione glared at him and he rolled his eyes, then settled back into the chair and prodded at the bruise under his arm. "I have a soft spot for winning a great deal of money by being the man who takes down the house-elf in question, for getting new servants without having to spend much money, and for irritating Zabini. There's several good reasons for what I do. But to continue, if you'll remember, I was a Seeker at school, and I'm still as fast as I was then. It's a simple matter to be the first one to find any roaming house-elves. They're quite a bit larger than Snitches. One good Stunner and huzzah, an apparently dead house-elf and I've earned myself five thousand Galleons and a new servant. The only issue is getting the 'body' out without the other men getting curious. I don't usually have problems with that, but I was a bit distracted this year."

He looked up at her, silent for several seconds, then away as a pink flush climbed over his cheekbones. "Worried about Scorpius and the Isolationists and ...." The blush deepened as Draco gave a sigh. "I hit a tree."

Hermione stared, blinked, and stared some more, then burst into laughter. "I'm-I'm-I'm sorry," she said, waving her hands in front of her face to cool her heated skin. "I'm sorry, Mister Malfoy, I know I shouldn't laugh, but you hit a tree? Do you honestly expect me to believe that? You don't have any lacerations, no facial swelling, nothing except the bruises, which--" She grabbed the brandy and crossed the room to hand it to Draco. When he took the bottle from her, she poked him in the shoulder and pointed at the bruises low on his ribs. "Which have several resemblances to the marks left by fists."

Draco took a long swallow of brandy, shoved his hair out of his face, and glared up at her. "Then a tree hit me. That's all you're getting. Now either help me with those bandages and that arnica paste or get out."

* * *

Hermione drooped over her breakfast the next morning, her thoughts in a muddle and the tines of her fork scraping the china plate as she pushed a piece of egg around and around. She'd often assisted her father in his medical practice, and dealt with intractable, irritating patients, but Draco had turned out to be one of the most irritating she'd ever had the misfortune to encounter. He whinged and flinched and complained, accused her of torturing him and leaving behind more bruises than he'd had when he came home. He didn't settle down until she stuffed enough brandy into him that he lolled in the chair with his eyes glazed and hooded.

Hermione shoved her egg across her plate and let her eyes drift shut. She was actually quite pleased that Draco had been an absolute child about the tiniest twists of pain, because it had distracted her from staring at the strong angle of his jaw or the breadth of his shoulders or the dip of his navel and the line of pale golden hair that trailed from it into the waistband of his trousers, or--

She dropped her fork on her plate, the clatter snapping her eyes open. "Get a hold on yourself," she muttered, shaking her head as she reached for her tea. It was bad enough that Draco had taken top billing in her dreams after she'd finally gone to sleep again, but she couldn't allow him to invade her waking thoughts as well. Thank heavens he was home and she could pack up to go back to her apartments in Diagon Alley. Being in his house was leading her to far too many improper thoughts. It would be much better for all concerned when she was home and only saw him in passing at the end of a day of lessons with Scorpius.

The thought seemed to speak the boy up, and he bounded into the room with his kitten clutched in one hand. "Good morning, Miss Granger!" he crowed, the kitten set down to frolic under the table.

"Good morning, Scorpius." Hermione forced her head up and forced a smile onto her mouth. "Did Sadie tell you that your father was home? He's fine, like I told you he would be, and he's excited to hear about everything you learned this weekend."

Scorpius beamed and danced around the room before dashing to her chair to fling his arms around her and give her a hug. She smiled and embraced him, and the door flew open with a crash that rattled the china on the table. Hermione's arms tightened around Scorpius as she stared at the man looming in the doorway. He had a thunderous look in his eyes. "Where is she?" he said, his voice near to the growls of a bear. "Where's the damned elf and where the hell is Malfoy?"

"Language!" Hermione pressed her hands over Scorpius' ears. She recognized the large man as one of Draco's friends from Hogwarts, and since he'd told her that Vincent was dead, this one had to be Gregory Goyle. "Mister Malfoy is still abed, Mister Goyle."

"Then wake his pasty arse up and get him down here." Gregory dropped into a chair so heavily that the wood creaked and Hermione feared it would shatter. He drew his wand and Summoned a plate of kippers from the sideboard, then grabbed the coffeepot and poured.

Scorpius clung to Hermione, trembling, and she pulled him up into her arms as she stood. "Watch your language," she said, her voice in a hiss. She glared at the man stuffing his face with kippers, glared at the wand lying on the table. "And put that away. If you're Mister Malfoy's friend at all, you should know better." She stroked Scorpius' back, murmuring reassurances to him. He wrapped around her, clutching her tight enough that she suspected she could let go entirely and he wouldn't fall. "Mister Malfoy is asleep, I have no idea what you're talking about regarding any elves, and you could leave some kippers for everyone else, good heavens."

Gregory spoke with his mouth full and Hermione shuddered at the sight of half-masticated kippers. "The hunt. He snatched that house-elf and I had the hit on her." Gregory snorted, tipping his head back. "Had the hit on him, too. Bastard Apparated with the elf, left his broom behind. He'll have to buy a new one."

_I hit a tree_. Hermione's eyes narrowed as she remembered what Draco had said the previous night, and she had to silently order herself to watch her own language. Clearly the tree that Draco had hit - or that had hit him - was more like a mountain. Hermione took Scorpius to the corridor and set him down, speaking to him quietly. "Go wash your face and hands and go to your playroom." He protested with a whimper, and Hermione crouched to give him another tight hug and further whispered reassurances. "Go upstairs, Scorpius. Do it for me, angel. Please?"

She wasn't certain if it was the comforting touch or the affectionate name that she called him without thinking, but he nodded and went straight up the stairs without looking back. Hermione stood, straightened her morning gown and pulled the sash into a tight knot, and patted her hair into place. She walked back into the breakfast room and took her chair, sitting with her back perfectly straight and her eyes locked on Gregory. "You have the manners of an animal," she said in her sweetest tones as she poured a cup of tea. "You should be ashamed of yourself, behaving like that in front of Scorpius. If you claim to know Mister Malfoy, you should know that would unsettle the child. You will need to apologize for that, and for what you did yesterday. How dare you? When Mister Malfoy comes down for breakfast, you had best apologize with haste. He's bound to be in a delicate condition and not in the mood for the misbehavior of his so-called friends."

"For God's sake, it's not as though I set the table on fire." Gregory rolled his eyes and buttered a piece of toast, then shoved it into his mouth whole. He chewed it messily and Hermione closed her eyes in disgust. The chair creaked, then the floor, and when she opened her eyes, she slammed back in her chair with a shriek. Gregory was leaning over her chair, staring into her face. "I have a question," he said, licking butter off his lip. "How do you know what I did yesterday?"

Hermione huffed a lock of hair out of her eyes and glared up at him, determined not to show that she was in the slightest bit frightened of his proximity. "He told me last night."

He put his hand on the back of her chair and tilted his head. "Last night? And this morning Malfoy's in a delicate condition? Still in bed? You know this for a fact?" Hermione felt her face burn with a blush as she suddenly realized the implications of what she had said, but before she could open her mouth to explain, Gregory had yanked her up out of the chair and clasped both arms around her. "Malfoy playing in the dirt?" he said, practically growling. "A little surprising, but I suppose I can't blame him. You're a cute little chit, for a Mudblood."

Hermione squirmed, kicked, and squealed, irate at the insult and terrified at her predicament, but Gregory held her too tightly for her to escape. "Tell you what," he said. "I'll let Malfoy keep the house-elf and the money, and I'll take a turn at you."

Hermione cursed herself for leaving her wand in her bedroom, cursed herself for not thinking about the implications behind her words. No respectable woman even insinuated that she'd seen a man's bedroom, much less that she'd seen him in bed, and now she was going to pay for that. Staying at Draco's house was scandalous enough, but excusable. She was his employee, Scorpius' tutor, but this went too far. Gregory thought she was some sort of loose woman, some sort of immoral doxy willing to lift her skirts for any man who wandered along. She kicked at his shins, desperate to get him to release her, but he held her tighter, laughing. "That's it, pretty girl," he said before lifting her higher and nuzzling against her ear. To her humiliation, Hermione could not stop the soft keen of horror at his next words. "I like it when they fight."

"Goyle, I will be very upset with you if you do not put Miss Granger down this instant." The voice was a low drawl, the tone was almost bored, but Hermione and Gregory both froze at the quiet menace in Draco's words. Hermione yelped as Gregory dropped her, and she staggered back to fetch up against the table with her hand pressed to her mouth. She had no time to worry about how easily Gregory had snatched her up or how weak her fight had been, no time to worry about anything except the cold mercury of Draco's eyes. He prowled into the room and, despite having several inches disadvantage to Gregory's height, he loomed over the larger man. The two looked at each other and Hermione felt her throat thickening as tension rose in the room, but to her surprise, Gregory broke first and turned away to retake his seat.

Draco deliberately turned his back and moved to Hermione, putting himself between her and his friend. "Did he hurt you?" Draco asked, his voice shifting into a soft concern that left her breathless for a moment. Hermione shook her head, her pulse racing when Draco patted her shoulder and helped her into her chair. He claimed his own seat at the head of the table. "Miss Granger, would you be so kind as to pour for me? I believe it's Darjeeling this morning, if my nose does not mislead me."

Hermione gaped at him and Draco raised an eyebrow. He didn't speak again, but Hermione saw a flicker in his eyes that spoke for him. Draco needed to look in control of the room, or the control he had over Gregory would fray too easily. She smiled and took up the teakettle to pour a cup for him, ordering her fingers not to shake.

"Sweet," she heard Gregory say from the other end of the table. "Adorable little domestic scene you have there. Not particularly impressed, though, Malfoy. Do you always have breakfast and tea with your doxies?"

Draco laid his fingers against Hermione's wrist as the teacup rattled when she handed it to him. "Goyle, I looked the other way when you slept with my wife. I'm afraid I won't be quite so silent this time. If you can't be polite, you may leave. I will brook no insult to Miss Granger."

Gregory and Hermione both gasped. Draco settled back in his chair and took Hermione's hand, stroking his thumb across the back of her knuckles. The motion looked gentle, but he held her firmly, preventing her from pulling away. He kept his eyes on hers, with the smallest of smiles curling the corners of his mouth. "Yes, I knew about the visits to Astoria. I knew about _everyone's_ visits to her, Goyle. I simply never said anything. I wanted her to be happy, even if I couldn't provide that for her." He leaned forward and brought Hermione's hand up to his mouth. Hermione held her breath as he kissed the backs of her knuckles, her confusion and bewilderment over his touch and actions lost for a moment in the softness of Draco's lips.

What on earth was he doing? What was the reason for his actions? But more importantly, why didn't she wear gloves to breakfast? His mouth was gentle and warm against her skin, and Hermione could feel her cheeks heating. "Mister Malfoy," she murmured, tugging at her hand to get him to release her. "Mister Malfoy, you shouldn't be doing this. We aren't alone." She gulped as she heard herself speak. Her intention had been to remind him that they were under observation and that his actions could easily be misconstrued, but the realization hit her that he clearly wanted them to be misconstrued. Draco was no fool, and knew what it would look like to sit there openly holding her hand, much less to kiss it. Hermione shot a glance at Gregory, and blushed further as she saw him sitting there gape-mouthed and wide-eyed.

"What in blazes is going on, Malfoy?" he finally managed to ask, his growling voice sent an octave higher in his surprise.

"What's going on is frankly none of your concern," Draco said, releasing Hermione's hand and leaning back in his chair as he took up his tea. "What you may take into concern, and what I feel to be very crucial for you to understand, is that I will be vexed if any insult is given to Miss Granger, and if you ever lay a hand on her again, I will be much more than vexed. I might go so far as to say quite angry. Do not dare, not even once more. This is your warning, Goyle." Draco looked up, looked at Gregory at the far end of the table, and Hermione held her breath at his expression. The grey of his eyes darkened, hardened. Hermione looked to Gregory, and after a tense moment of silence, he got up.

"Understood, Malfoy." He knocked over the coffeepot and stormed out of the room.

* * *

"How could you possibly do that to me?" Hermione shouted at Draco for the third time. "Embarrass me like that? Now he's going to think that I belong to you in some way. I'm your employee, Mister Malfoy, but I am not and will never be _that_ sort of employee! What was the point of your little display?"

Draco sipped at his tea, watching her over the rim of the delicate china cup. "He won't bother you again. I believe that was the point."

Hermione tossed her hands up in frustration and made a disgusted noise as she stomped across the breakfast room. Draco simply did not comprehend her irritation with him. She wasn't certain if he was truly failing to understand or if he was deliberately avoiding the question, but either way, it made her head hurt. "Mister Malfoy, that is not the point, and you know it. The point you so obviously made today was that I am your own personal property, and that if Mister Goyle--"

"If Goyle attempted to assault you again, I would personally remove his hands and feed them to him one finger at a time, and that would only be the beginning." Draco's voice snapped and Hermione froze in her pacing. She turned slowly to look at him, her eyes wide. "Miss Granger, Goyle is not gentle with women. Astoria would spend days with bruises after he'd come to visit. She seemed to enjoy it, because he was the one she contacted most often for her liaisons. I have to assume that you would not find it quite as entertaining. You are welcome to be angry with me if you choose, but the show I put on for Goyle was a necessary one. If he thought that you were available for attentions - and believe me, no matter the evidence, he thinks that every woman is available for attentions - you would not be safe. However, as he now thinks that you are quite occupied with my attentions, you will be left alone. Goyle is not the brightest candle in England, but he is not a complete fool. He won't risk my anger. The only reason he did with Astoria was he was under the impression I didn't know about her affairs. He won't rush the hoops over you. Not now."

Hermione shuddered when Draco mentioned bruises on his wife and rubbed her arm where Gregory had grabbed her. No, she suspected she wouldn't have found Gregory's attentions to be even slightly entertaining. Terrifying, perhaps. Painful and humiliating, certainly. She hated to admit that Draco had been even slightly right, but she finally bowed her head in acknowledgment. "I still don't like it, and I don't appreciate your high-handedness, Mister Malfoy. I also don't appreciate that now I have to find a way out of this situation." She paced the breakfast room again, wringing her hands together as she thought.

"I have to leave," she finally said as she looked through the window into the back garden, where Scorpius' kitten was chasing a butterfly. "If any of your friends are fool enough to ask questions, then you can say that you handed me my papers. Got bored of me, whatever works out best for you to keep face. My friends wouldn't bother to ask questions, since none of them would be stupid enough to believe that I'd let you have that sort of freedom. For them, we'll say that my teaching position with Scorpius didn't work out, and that I left your employment. That's easiest. That's the best way."

There was a long silence, then Draco's voice came, too quiet. "I would never once have placed a bet that you were the sort who would ever take the easiest way out, Miss Granger. I find I'm disappointed. I'm certain Scorpius will be as well."

Hermione twitched and ducked her head, staring at the tips of her shoes under her skirts. A similar conversation, four years past, fluttered against the edges of her memory. She shoved it away and shook her head. "I thought--"

"You thought you'd abandon my son because you were temporarily embarrassed. Very well, Miss Granger, if that's the extent of your loyalty, I'll sever our association this minute. I trust that once you've packed your things, you'll never touch my doorstep again. Do you plan to tell Scorpius yourself that you'll no longer be teaching him, or were you going to leave that to me?"

"Papa?"

Hermione turned at that voice, her hands over her mouth as she stared. The protest she'd planned to throw at Draco faded when she saw Scorpius at the door. Scorpius hovered just outside it, both hands on the frame and his lower lip caught between his teeth. He looked at her, then to Draco, and she saw him take a breath so deep that it shook his small frame. "Papa, Miss Granger isn't leaving, is she?"

"I'm afraid Miss Granger feels she can no longer work here, Scorpius. I'm terribly sorry. I'll start looking for a new tutor immediately."

Hermione had read many horrid novels where a young woman suffered a heartbreak, read many descriptions of the twisting and aching pain that settled into the chest and made one feel as though the air was too heavy to breathe. She'd always felt it was ridiculous. Now, looking at the expression on Scorpius' face, at the upset and distress that leaked into his eyes, she understood that those descriptions had been inadequate. Hermione's chest ached and she pressed her hand over her heart, expecting to feel the pieces of it pushing out through her bodice. Scorpius swallowed hard and bowed his head, and his voice shivered when he spoke. "I understand, Papa." He looked up to her, his eyes watery. "I'm sorry I wasn't good enough for you to stay, Miss Granger. I-I thought I was learning."

He broke away from the door and ran to her, clutching her legs. "Please stay, Miss Granger. Please. I'll try harder. I'll be good and I'll learn anything you want, if you'll stay." Scorpius raised his head and Hermione's knees buckled at the tears tracking his face. She knelt and wrapped her arms around him, looking over his head at Draco. He raised an eyebrow and held his hands wide.

Hermione cradled Scorpius to her shoulder. "I'll stay."

* * *

"Ginny, you didn't see his face. You didn't see the look in his eyes. I think I'd have promised to fetch the moon for him if it meant it would wipe those tears away. I had to promise to stay." Hermione tore a roll in half and gestured with the pieces as Ginny brought the teakettle to the table. "I know you think this is a bad idea, but I don't care. I truly don't care about anyone's opinions. The boy needs people to care about him. He needs someone who can help him figure out his way in the world."

"Hermione, it was a lark at the start, but you have to consider this further." Ginny took her chair with caution, sitting well back from the table to keep her stomach from bumping into the edge. "You have to consider the damage to your reputation. Once you've finished with tutoring Scorpius, then you'll need to move on. You'll have to find more employment, or maybe by then you'll be looking to settle into a relationship, and then what will you do if your reputation is in shreds and you can't move on? I agree he needs someone to care about him, but from what you've told me, Malfoy's doing perfectly well in that. If he's looking to find a wife who can be a mother for his son, if he's looking for instructors and nursemaids to watch over the boy when he can't be there, then I think he's getting on well with caring about his own child. Why do you have to be the one who's getting involved?"

Hermione had to force herself not to give more explanation for why she wanted to stay, for Scorpius' benefit. She'd promised that she wouldn't release the particulars of Scorpius' condition. She'd promised Draco that she would keep her silence, promised Scorpius that she'd stay to teach him. Too many promises, and ones that she intended to keep. "Ginny, that's just how it is. I have to do this. I can't explain any more than that. You just have to trust that I know what I'm doing. I know what's best for him."

"Trust like I did four years ago? You remember how that turned out."

Hermione set the bread down as she felt her shoulders tense. "That's unfair," she whispered, staring at her plate. Ginny was her best friend. Ginny knew how difficult that time had been for her.

She was in the middle of planning her wedding to Ron. She thought, this time, that they'd finally make it to the ceremony. After school, he'd asked her to delay everything while he built up funds. Then the investment consortium he'd joined collapsed and the shares he purchased were worthless. It took him some time to recover from the melancholy that induced. When she started planning again, Ginny discovered she was pregnant, and in Ron's excitement over becoming an uncle, the wedding was put on hold again.

Then Percy was appointed to the Ministry. Then Charles published a paper and was in demand for round after round of appearances and lectures. Then William returned from Egypt and every wizard and witch in England had to attend the exhibition of antiquities. One thing after another came up, one sibling after another become the center of attention. The wedding was pushed back and delayed and put off, over and over again. Things came to a head on a damp spring afternoon.

Hermione arrived at the Weasley home with a bundle of scrolls - lists and plans, a variety of tasks to do for the wedding. Ron pretended to listen, but his obvious distraction and his lack of participation in the decisions eventually forced her to toss down her quill and toss up her hands. "Ron, are you going to help?"

"What does it matter?" he said, his back to her as she stared out the window. "It's just a wedding. They're all the same, really."

Hermione clutched the lace collar of her gown and gaped at Ron's back. "Just a wedding?" That was all she could manage to say, her breath stuck in her chest and stopping her from having the air for anything further.

"Just a wedding," he repeated. "Nothing special about it. People get married all the time, Hermione. Everyone gets married. It's not unique. It's not different. It's nothing extraordinary. It's not as though people would still be talking about it years later. I wouldn't change, I wouldn't be known for it. I'd still be the same. Just Ron Weasley. It doesn't mean anything."

Hermione's breath left her in a sharp rush. She'd always known that Ron felt jealous over the accomplishments of his family, felt envy that they had done so much when all he'd really achieved was a failed investment, but she'd never thought that he looked at their relationship with such a spurious eye. "It means nothing to you? Our wedding, our marriage, our future? It means _nothing_ to you?"

Ron sighed and turned from the window. "That's not what I meant, Hermione. You know I'm fond of you, and I don't object to marrying you, but is that it? Is that all I'm destined to be? Harry's friend, William's brother, Hermione's husband? Is that all there is for me?" He held his hands wide, his face flushed so red that his freckles disappeared into the color on his cheeks. "Is that all I'll ever be?"

Hermione slumped back in her chair, unable to take her eyes from Ron. Fond of her. Didn't object to marrying her. Her mind raced, memories of every delay and obstacle rushing to the fore. Every time Ron had put off the wedding yet again, she'd made excuses for him, but now she was wondering why. She'd excused his envy over his family, overlooked so much, and she couldn't believe that she'd missed something so crucial. He had envy and jealousy in abundance, but it didn't seem he had much room for love. She tried to look at it logically, tried to see things from his point of view. Nothing seemed to work. Her eyes stung and she hung her head. Ron wanted to make something special of life and it seemed she wasn't special enough to qualify. "You don't love me," she whispered.

Despite her best efforts to hold them back, tears spattered the parchment on the desk. She sniffled and heard Ron step up beside her. "Don't cry, Hermione." He held a handkerchief in her line of vision, lint-spotted and warm from his pocket. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out right at all. It's not that I don't love you. I do, I suppose."

Hermione made a soft sound and buried her face in the handkerchief. She heard Ron groan. He moved her chair sideways and crouched in front of her with his hands on her knees. "Hermione, please don't cry. That's not what I meant at all. It's only that.... We've been together since school. Everyone, including us, always just assumed we'd marry eventually. There's not a great deal of surprise and adventure in that. It's familiar, it's comforting, but is it love? Is it enough?"

Hermione wiped her eyes and cheeks, sniffing back more tears. She looked at Ron and saw nothing but honesty in his face. He didn't mean to hurt her, she knew that. He just didn't think, occasionally. He thought about himself quite a bit, and she acknowledged that with some reluctance, but he didn't often think about others, even her. That needed to change.

She could make it change. She leaned forward and put her hands on his cheeks. "I'll make it an adventure. Trust me."

She tried, tried with all her heart. She planned outings and excursions. She focused all her attention on Ron. She did her best to make him feel special, to make him feel unique and important. Nothing seemed to work. Six months of effort, and nothing. Every sporting match, every exhibition, every fair they attended did nothing. She asked him, over and over, what else she could do, and he would shrug and look into the distance, drawing away from her emotionally, if not physically.

She tried to change herself. She did up her hair, experimented with cosmetics, wore brighter dresses. She held back her own opinions in conversations and let Ron do the talking. She put her hand on his arm and tossed her head back with a laugh that chimed. Ginny asked her, in a hushed talk over tea one afternoon, just what she thought she was doing.

"Trust me," Hermione said, with the appearance of full confidence. "I know what's best for him. For us."

She flirted and fluttered, but with every tinkling laugh and toss of her hair, Ron drew further away. One night, in desperation, she drew him into her arms and into her bed. For a short time, that seemed to have done the trick, as Ron strutted about like a prize stallion who'd just won a derby, but soon even that faded. Her determination and drive faded right along with it, and she woke one morning to find a letter waiting with her breakfast, a letter telling her that he'd been offered the chance to go to the Caribbean and make his fortune.

_Finally, Hermione, finally I have the chance to truly be acknowledged, to get my name out there and be known,_ known _for myself. I'll be famous, you'll see._

She cried at first, but not for long, and when Ginny and Lav came to tea, she showed them the letter. She pretended to accept their sympathies, but she admitted to herself that she was relieved. He could have his grand adventure. When she received letters from Ron, full of passion and excitement, she was happy for him. This was the easiest way to give him what he craved in life. She expected that he would come home, pleased with himself, proud of himself, and they could settle down to their future together.

She trusted in that.

Then came another letter, scribbled in excitement. _So happy,_ he wrote, _so proud. Found what I've been looking for all along. Something truly special. Adventure, love. I'm in love. Her father owns the largest plantation here, and I'll be taking over after the wedding. Everyone knows me, everyone. They respect me, they listen to me. I'm not just Arthur's son or Ginny's brother. I'm_ Ron. _Ron Weasley. I'm extremely famous here. I'm practically a king. I'm _someone. _Finally._

She put the letter away, put her engagement ring away, and put her feelings away. She focused on her work with her father and on her studies. She never let Lav or Ginny or anyone see her tears. Even though she missed him, missed the dreams of their future, missed her hopes of love, she put it all away. She knew what was best.

Hermione took a deep breath and pushed away all those memories. Four years past and gone, and nothing could change it now. She knew what she had to do. She'd done her best for Ron then, and she would do her best for Scorpius now. "Trust me," she said to Ginny again, smiling so wide and forcefully that it made her cheeks ache. "This is the right thing to do."

* * *

The first couple of days after her argument with Draco were difficult when it came to Scorpius. The lessons were tense and uncomfortable, but Hermione did her best to reassure Scorpius that nothing had changed. After luncheon one day, she sat at her desk and watched Scorpius as he filled out a worksheet she'd created for him with the constellations in the northern hemisphere. She smiled to herself as he took extra care over the stars that made up the constellations of Draco and Scorpius.

"Miss Granger."

The voice came from the schoolroom door, and she and Scorpius both looked to see Draco standing just inside the room. "Scorpius," he said, nodding to his son. "I find myself free this afternoon, and I was wondering. Er." Hermione blinked as Draco looked more awkward than she'd seen him in years, then he straightened up his shoulders. "I was wondering if the two of you would care to accompany me to Vauxhall. There's an exhibit of singing fountains that I hear is delightful."

Scorpius bounced in excitement and gave Hermione a pleading look. She suspected he was worried that she might refuse because they still had lessons to finish, but she had absolutely no intention of refusing. She'd been planning an excursion at the end of the week for the two of them, but Draco's offer was much better, and she would not stand in the way of a father taking some time with his son. "Go wash up," she said, smiling at Scorpius, then she turned her smile on Draco as the boy ran out of the room with a pause just long enough to hug Draco's leg.

Draco seemed taken aback by the brightness of her smile, but returned a quick one to her. She looked away before her cheeks could heat up, scolding herself for again noticing how much his smile changed his face. "Thank you, Mister Malfoy," she said, standing to straighten her skirts. "This will be good for Scorpius. I'm surprised you made the offer, though. Vauxhall doesn't seem the sort of place that you'd care to take your son. It's very crowded. Full of Muggles, too."

"Not quite as much in the afternoons. I certainly wouldn't be taking him there at night. The fireworks displays, you understand." Draco leaned against the door frame and folded his arms. "I understand it's a Muggle place, but that's not such a concern for me. He may need to get used to places like that. Diagon Alley might not be the place for him. Might not be his future. He may need to learn how to handle Muggle areas. Might as well start now."

Hermione heard the repetition of 'may' and 'might', heard the slight hesitance in his voice. As much as Draco continued to encourage his son in non-magical education and pursuits, she knew he clung to a faint wish that it would all be unnecessary, that Scorpius would turn out to be a true wizard in the end. She hoped for his sake that he could get his wish, but also hoped it wouldn't break his heart if that never came to pass. "I think that's very wise of you, Mister Malfoy," she said, her eyes focused on the quill she was cleaning. The way he was leaning against the door frame emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and that, combined with his smile, was not exactly safe for her to examine. "I think, also, that it will help Scorpius quite a bit in future lessons if you appear to be willing to allow him more freedom in Muggle areas."

"Perhaps. That wasn't my entire reasoning, however. Don't think that I have any large stock of noble motives behind this. I need to meet with an associate there. I would have gone alone, but I'd just as soon catch two Snitches in one match. Meet with my associate and have a nice afternoon with my son. Need you to come along to keep him occupied during my meeting."

Hermione felt a stab of disappointment that Draco hadn't come up with the idea solely out of paternal affection, but she pushed it aside. He could have decided that he'd go alone and never mention the excursion at all. She wouldn't allow herself to be irritated that he had an additional plan in mind as long as he spent sufficient time with Scorpius, unless his business with his 'associate' was risky. "Does this have something to do with the Isolationists?" she asked quietly, as she gathered up her reticule.

"No." Draco looked into the distance for a moment, then shook his head and sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair, straightening it in the queue fastened at the nape of his neck. "I have a lead on a potential marriage match. I need to gather some more information."

Hermione very firmly ignored the second stab of disappointment that went through her. Of course he would want to gather as much information as possible. She'd known all along that he was looking for a wife. That he hadn't appeared to be doing much of it was down to her inattention, she was sure. She had been focused on Scorpius.

"Well," she said, tapping square a stack of parchments on her desk. "Of course. Of course I'll come along to keep watch over Scorpius while you're busy. That is why you pay me a salary, is it not? There wouldn't be any other reason for me to be there, after all."

Draco remained silent for a handful of seconds, then pushed away from the door and came to her desk. Hermione watched him out of the corner of her eye. He tugged at the cuff of his shirt and twisted his signet ring, then cleared his throat. "Miss Granger. Under other circumstances, if we were other people?" Hermione looked up in some surprise, and her eyes widened as she noticed the light flush across Draco's cheeks. "If you weren't, er. My son's tutor. But as you are who you are, then, well. You understand."

Hermione glanced back to her desk, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Scorpius' tutor. Naturally. And if it weren't for that, she was still a Muggle-born. "I understand." She pushed her chair away from the desk and stood without meeting Draco's eyes. "I need to wash up and change. If you'll excuse me, Mister Malfoy." She left the room as quickly as she could, trying not to pay any attention to how much her heart was racing. There was really no reason for it, and she'd be smart not to think otherwise.

* * *

Draco had been wrong about Vauxhall's lack of crowds in the afternoon. A balloon launch was scheduled for one hour before sunset, and the populace was out in full force. Hermione kept a tight hold on Scorpius' hand as they followed Draco along the Grand Walk to the private box he'd hired for their meal. Hermione did her best not to gawp and gape at the gowns of some of the ladies they passed, did her best to distract Scorpius from some of the other women who were only too clearly not ladies. She knew Vauxhall was a popular spot for the _demimonde_ to put themselves on display, and as far as she was concerned, they had far too much of themselves displayed. Low-cut bodices and thin, clinging muslins left very little to the imagination. She glared at the back of Draco's head as if daring the long queue of his blond hair to move as he turned his head to look at one of the Cyprians, but it continued to hang straight down between his shoulder blades. Not even a twitch.

He led them to the supper box, one set at the fringes of the hundred boxes near the Grove. From the outside, it appeared empty except for seating and a table, but when Hermione crossed the threshold with Scorpius, she blinked in the realization that a house-elf stood in a corner, its ears held low to prevent them from poking up over the wall of the supper box. Hermione didn't think that was necessary. Vauxhall was crowded, but the crowds were paying attention to the exhibitions and attractions, not to the people eating quiet meals. It was possible that even if the house-elf were noticed, it could easily be passed off as a midget in fancy dress.

"You might enjoy this later," Draco said, gesturing to the Grove where a group of musicians were setting up on a raised platform. "It's reputed to be quite good."

"Papa, look." Scorpius pointed to a man walking past with large wooden boards attached to leather straps slung over his shoulders. The boards, and the man's piercing voice, advertised a magician's performance later in the evening, and Scorpius looked to Draco with some confusion. "I thought this was a Muggle park? How do they have wizards?"

"It is," Draco said, laying his hand on Scorpius' shoulder. "He's not a real wizard. Tricks and pretend, that's all."

"Oh." Scorpius watched the man walk away, then shrugged one shoulder. Hermione saw the look in his eyes, however, that belied the casual gesture and tone of his voice. It was a look of obscure pain that did not belong on anyone's face, much less on that of a boy. "I should make friends, then. He could teach me tricks to pretend too."

Draco's eyes held a similar expression, for just a moment, then he rubbed one hand over his face and turned away without responding. Hermione had to stop herself from reaching out to him. As much as Scorpius had to learn how to exist without magic, Draco had to learn it as well. It wasn't easy on either of them, but they were both trying. "You don't need tricks, Scorpius," she said quietly, moving to stand next to him and resting her hand on his shoulder. "You're a very capable young man without them. I'm proud of you without the pretend. I'm sure your father is too."

She glanced at Draco's back, which stiffened as if he could feel her looking at him. He turned and looked at her in silence, then looked down to Scorpius and smiled. "I am proud of you, Scorpius. Just as you are. I don't want a pretend wizard. I want you as my son."

Hermione felt Scorpius tremble under her hand and she squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. When she looked down, he was smiling so wide she thought his face might split. "Good thing I am your son, then," he said. "Be hard to convince you to let me keep my kitten if I wasn't."

Draco laughed, leaning against the low wall of the supper box, his arms folded over his chest and his head tipped back. Scorpius giggled after a moment, then moved away from Hermione to stand beside his father. He rested his head against Draco's side, still giggling, and Hermione felt her heart lighten to look at the two men as they shared a moment of laughter. So alike, despite their one crucial difference.

She allowed herself that moment to watch them, then clapped her hands and spread several handbills out on the table, advertisements for the attractions at the gardens. "Shall we decide what we want to go see before dinner?" she asked in a bright voice. "There's a tightrope walker, and a troupe of dancing bears, and jugglers. What sounds interesting, Scorpius?"

He came to the table to go through the handbills, his pale brows furrowed as he read. Hermione left him to it and moved to stand beside Draco. "Your meeting," she said, keeping her voice pitched soft, for his ears alone. "When is it?"

"Not until later. I have enough time to attend a couple of exhibits with Scorpius before I'll need to leave him in your hands. Do you think it would be best if I left quietly or if I alert him? He trusts you enough that I wouldn't be worried about his reaction if I didn't tell him first." Draco gestured at Scorpius, who was dividing the handbills into various piles. "He appears to be happy enough with the selection. Would it distract him sufficiently?"

Hermione took a moment to work through her surprise that Draco had asked her opinion, and another moment to work through her _pleasure_ that he had asked her opinion. She would have given it regardless, but to be asked in the first place made something in her chest feel warm. She watched Scorpius as she considered her answer carefully. "I understand the temptation to leave without alerting him first. It would leave less potential for a scene if he reacted badly. However, I think it's necessary that you discuss it with him before you go. You needn't tell him the particulars, of course, but I think it would be best that you tell him you'll be gone for a little while." She stopped abruptly, blinking, then turned to face Draco. "It _is_ just going to be a little while, right? You're not planning to take flight for an hour or more?"

Draco chuckled and shook his head without taking his eyes off his son. "No, I won't be gone long. Half an hour, at most."

"Then I believe that you should talk to him before you go, yes. Even if you'll just be gone for that short period, I think it would make him happier if he knew that he could trust you."

"Are you implying that my son doesn't trust me, Miss Granger?"

Hermione bit her lip at the question, at the tone of Draco's voice as he asked it. There wasn't any anger in his words, and he spoke in a calm manner, but under that calm she heard a tiny bit of concern. "No. No, Mister Malfoy, that's not what I meant. I meant that if you tell him straight away, he'll know that you're being honest with him. He'll know that you trust _him_. You trust him to be mature enough to understand what you're doing and why, and that you trust him to understand that even though you have business to take care of, he's equally important to you."

Draco looked at Hermione, his brows furrowed, then he nodded once. "Thank you, Miss Granger. That sounds logical enough." He patted her shoulder as he passed by to go to the table where Scorpius stood. "Son, I need to speak with you."

The house-elf set out plates with a selection of eatables while the three of them took seats at the table. Draco took the ginger biscuits from Hermione's plate and replaced them with the apricot tart from his, the action automatic from many shared meals. He explained his plans for the evening, and Scorpius nodded at Draco's reassurances that he'd only be gone for a short time. "Will you be back in time to see the balloon launch, Papa? I wanted to watch that with you and Miss Granger both."

Draco smiled at his son, a glance flicked toward Hermione. "Wouldn't miss that for the world."

* * *

Hermione led Scorpius along the Grand Walk, her hand wrapped tightly around his. The tightrope walker had been fascinating, and Scorpius had wanted to stay longer to watch the acrobatic troupe scheduled to follow, but Hermione overheard a couple of young dandies nearby placing bets about the fire-eater in the troupe, and she hastened away with Scorpius in tow. The child was having such a good time that she didn't want to run the slightest risk that his old fears would crop up again. He was doing well, she was happy, and an entertained and pleasantly exhausted Scorpius would go a long way to showing Draco that his son could survive and even thrive in Muggle society.

They'd seen a sign announcing that the launch was canceled, and Scorpius had been disappointed for a short while, but Hermione promised him that they would find another entertainment to watch with his father, and he brightened up. Scorpius chattered merrily to her as they hurried back to the Grove. Hermione listened with half her attention, the other half focused on the crowds around them. She heard a few disgruntled conversations about the balloon launch, about its abrupt cancellation, and as she and Scorpius got closer to the Grove and to their supper box, she heard more and more. The atmosphere of the crowd was beginning to change, and she felt her heart pounding as she struggled not to give off any sign of her anxiety to Scorpius. No one could live in London for long without experiencing at least one riot, and she had a horrible feeling that the disappearance of an exhibition so many Londoners had been excited to see would cause the crowd to turn ugly. A riot could manifest in moments. She had to get Scorpius back to Draco.

Scorpius stopped in the middle of the Grand Walk, his hand tightening around hers until she imagined she could feel the bones of her fingers grinding together. "What's wrong?" she asked, looking down. He stood with hunched shoulders as he stared down the length of the walk. Slowly, he raised his free hand and wrapped it around Hermione's wrist, tugging on her arm with both hands.

"Miss Granger," he said, pulling at her, his voice tight. "Miss Granger, look. Down the walk. At the end, next to the woman in the white dress. Look, Miss Granger. It's the man. That man. From the alley. It's _him_, Miss Granger."

Hermione snapped her head up and stared to the end of the walk. Every woman in her line of view appeared to be wearing a white dress, then her eyes locked on one in particular, almost hidden in the shadows of an archway. Beside her stood a man in a long, hooded cloak. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to her, until the man turned. Distance and shadows kept his face obscured, but Hermione thought he was looking straight at her. She shivered and clung to Scorpius' hand. "I'm positive you're mistaken, Scorpius. It's someone enjoying the gardens. In a hood." She realized her trembling voice wasn't helping her attempt at reassurance, but there didn't seem to be much she could say that was at all logical. She didn't like the looks of that hood, and she had a horrible sense that Scorpius was right.

"It's _him_." Scorpius looked up to her, his eyes wide and dark with fear. "Where's Papa? Miss Granger, where's Papa?" His jaw worked for a moment, his mouth forming words without any sounds, then he sucked in air with a sobbing gulp and expelled it on a terrified shriek as a booming explosion shook the sky. Lights burst over the gardens and the shrieks of the crowd doubled as orange light shot up over the Grove. Hermione's heart stuttered as the fireworks started in earnest and the crowd screamed in surprise. Scorpius jerked out of her grip and bolted.

Hermione shrieked and gave chase without thought. There was no need to think, no time for it. The look of fear in Scorpius' eyes would have been enough to startle anyone, but knowing what she did about the fashion in which his mother had died, it terrified her.

The crowd was turning to a mob, and mobs meant danger, meant violence, meant fires. Scorpius was frightened already, and if he ran into trouble, ran into anything involving open, wild flames, all his progress could be destroyed with one blaze. She had to find him. Fast.

Hermione elbowed her way through the crowd, first running back to their supper box in hopes that Scorpius had gone somewhere familiar. The little house-elf was gone and the box was empty except for handbills scattered about the floor. Hermione scanned the gardens, looking for a small boy with white-blond hair. She thought she saw a glimmer of it near the hedges, and she caught up her skirts to run, unconcerned with the indignity of it. There wasn't a thought in her head except finding Scorpius. She ran up one avenue of the gardens and down the next. The hem of her dress caught under a man's walking stick and tore; her hair fell from its chignon as she grabbed at her temples in worry.

The crowd around her grew more daunting as the minutes passed. Soon it seemed to be packed with shouting young men and screeching Cyprians. Hermione, frantic and frustrated, had a wild thought of snatching her wand out of her sleeve and _Summoning_ Scorpius to her arms, then she heard another burst of fireworks overhead. In the moment of silence following the explosive shock, a high, boyish scream echoed. Hermione dove into the line of elm trees that separated the gravel pathways, heading into the narrow lane of the Dark Walk. Lovers, poets, and young bloods were fond of that walkway, with its shadows lending ease to clandestine meetings, and a young boy terrified of bright flames and explosions might head to the darkest place he could find.

He had. Hermione spotted him crouched in the roots of an elm, his arms wrapped around himself as he pressed into the trunk of the tree. Even at a distance, she could tell that Scorpius was shaking. She ran forward, calling his name. He looked up and screamed for her, hands outstretched and face streaked with tears.

She wrapped both arms around him, not caring in the slightest about the dirt staining her gown or the cold soaking into her knees. Scorpius trembled in her arms, his face buried in her shoulder. Hermione clung to him, pressed into the tree trunk with bark poking her in the back and catching in her hair. None of it mattered. Too many people around, shouting and screaming, too many people running through the walks of the gardens. "Scorpius, we have to get out of here. Sweetheart, we have to leave. I know you're scared; I'm scared too, but we have to get going. Scorpius, listen to me. Can you listen? I need you to pay very close attention. I have an idea for how we can get you home, but it's going to be rough on you. I don't want to frighten you further, but I can't take you out through the crowds. I can Apparate us out."

He shivered and shook his head against her shoulder, protesting in choked little gulps. "No, no," he muttered over and over, twisting his head to burrow his face into her neck. "Miss Granger, no. Please."

"Scorpius, I know you're frightened but we have to go."

"Not without _Papa_."

Hermione shuddered at the fear and upset in Scorpius' voice, and she spread her hands across his back, holding him close. "We'll find him, sweetheart, I promise. We'll find your Papa and we'll go home and we'll all be safe."

"There you are."

Hermione stiffened. She twisted on her knees, staring wildly at the hooded shape that had come out of the crowds. The harsh voice held a menace she remembered. Her heart raced as Scorpius screamed into her shoulder. "Get away from us," she warned.

"You're not in much of a place to be giving orders." The man stepped closer, and a dark, rolling laugh came from the shadows of his hood. "Why, Miss Granger. You've torn your dress. Lovely ankles you have there. Makes me wonder if the rest of you is as attractive. I'm tempted to have a look. Maybe a bit more if I see something I like."

She caught her breath as the threat settled in her mind. It was a blessing that Scorpius was too young to know the implications behind the man's words, but he clearly felt the tension in her body because he whimpered and clung tighter to her. The cloaked man took another step closer, and Hermione clutched Scorpius, her throat too dry with fear to whisper the same wandless Shield charm she'd used the first time she'd rescued him. Hermione struggled to her feet and tried to loosen one arm from Scorpius, ready to reach for her wand despite the child's phobia. She took a step back, pressing further into the trees.

The sound of the crowd was head-splitting and savage, but even over it, even over the malevolent laughter of the man as he approached, she heard Draco's roar as he shouted his son's name. A group of young bucks ran past, throwing looks over their shoulders as if they could see the devil chasing them. The hooded figure turned, cloak swinging, and she heard a vile curse before he spun back to point a finger at them. "You'll see me again." He disappeared into the crowd only seconds before Draco appeared, his hair loose and wild, his face twisted up with the skin around one eye darkened.

"Papa!"

"Draco!"

Their cries were simultaneous, matched in fearful relief. Hermione held a hand out, gesturing wildly to catch Draco's attention. He shoved a pair of overly-dressed fops away from the trees in which she and Scorpius hid, then blocked the path to it with his own body. "Scorpius. Hermi--Miss Granger. Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"We're fine. We're all right." Hermione clutched Scorpius tight, unable and unwilling to let go even now that they were relatively safe. She looked up to Draco, doing her best not to shake as much as the child in her arms. "Draco, the crowd. They're--"

"I know." He made a quick gesture, frustration evident in the sharpness of his movement. "We're leaving now." He moved into the trees, his face tense with worry. He patted Scorpius' back and hair, speaking reassurances under his breath. Hermione closed her eyes and gave into the temptation to take one hand from Scorpius and press it to Draco's coat. Her neck was wet from Scorpius' tears, and she felt her cheeks dampen as well as relief spun through her. Draco stepped closer, his fingers wrapping around hers, his other arm sliding around her shoulders. They pressed Scorpius between them, and Draco ducked his head to murmur to her. "Miss Granger, I'm afraid London isn't going to be safe tonight. My associate hinted that this situation has not arisen by accident." He nodded towards Scorpius. "No details right now, but later. I don't want to ask this, but I can't think of anything else at the moment. It's not a good idea, but it's a worse one to take him back to the townhouse. The wrong sort of people know where I live. Do you have-- Would it be possible--"

He sighed and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Could we put up at yours for the night? Until morning, when I can arrange transport to take him to the estate. I hate to trouble you, but--" He stifled a growl of frustration. "But I can't think. We need to get Scorpius _out_ of here. Out of Muggle London."

Hermione started to argue, but another boom shook the sky and the mob's screams doubled. Scorpius yelped and tightened his grip around her and Hermione's protests shattered. "Yes. Yes, of course. Anything. Get him out of here. Get us out of here. Hold on tight, Mister Malfoy. Side-Along." She clung to Scorpius with one arm and slid the other around Draco's waist, then turned on the spot and disappeared with Scorpius shrieking in her ear.

* * *

Draco ducked through the Floo in her flat as soon as they'd arrived, promising to be back quickly, only leaving long enough to check on the townhouse in Philter Square. "I'll send all the elves to the estate. _Yes_, Scorpius, I'll fetch your kitten. I'll be back in a few minutes, I promise."

Hermione patted Scorpius' hair, assuring him she'd only be a minute while she fetched a blanket and a flannel to wash his face, and tried to put him down on the settle. He clung to her, the stormy tears of Vauxhall giving way to tired sniffles, and begged her in a quiet voice not to leave him alone. She relented and allowed him to follow her around her apartments, though it made her attempts at finding things to comfort him more difficult. She had no wish to frighten him further with blatant magic use. Finally she gave up and settled into her rocking chair after moving it well away from the Floo. She'd intended to turn the chair so the fireplace was out of the line of sight, but to her surprise, Scorpius knuckled tears from his eyes and asked her to leave it. "Papa will be back soon. I want to see as soon as he comes."

She cradled Scorpius in her lap and rocked with him, singing a quiet lullaby to help him calm. She let him sniffle out the last of his tears until he fell asleep on her shoulder. She leaned her head against his and finally allowed herself a bit of a cry.

The afternoon had been so lovely, and then it had become so _ruined_. Hermione wasn't certain she wanted the further details Draco had promised her. A riot that wasn't an accident, the man in the hooded cloak, the bruise around Draco's eye. She didn't have to wonder if the Isolationists had been involved. Draco's insistence that the house in Philter Square was unsafe was evidence enough for her. It wouldn't be the first time the Isolationists had used the cover of a riot to go after a witch or wizard they suspected of too much Muggle influence.

The neighborhood which surrounded Draco's house was populated by elderly magical folk, though she would lay no bets that even a quarter of them were pure-bloods, and those that had pure lineages were more approving of Muggles than some. Draco seemed to be doing his best to protect his son, even down to their address. Hermione closed her eyes and scrubbed the back of her hand across her face. If the riot tonight was connected to the attack weeks before, then she suspected even Diagon Alley would not be safe. More were against the Isolationist cause than for it, but those who supported it were sometimes quite ruthless.

Hermione stroked Scorpius' fringe away from his forehead, examining his features. How anyone could hate a child for something he couldn't help was beyond her. He was an innocent in this. His father might not have been, but she had seen a difference in Draco. He wasn't the cold, hateful boy he'd been in school. He loved his son, magic or no magic.

She rocked with the sleeping child, letting her thoughts drift, and she was drowsing herself when the Floo flared up and Draco stepped through. He held a small bundle of clothing in one hand and a smaller kitten in the other. Hermione was grateful she had Scorpius in her arms. If she hadn't, she might have leapt forward to wrap them around Draco, grateful he'd returned in one piece. She wrapped that temptation up and shoved it away in her thoughts for later examination.

"Is everything all right?" she asked. "The house?"

"Safe for now," Draco said, dropping his bundle onto a table and settling into a chair with the kitten purring in his long fingers. "I sent the house-elves to the estate, put as many extra protective wards and charms on the place as I could remember. Alerted the neighbors to keep a watch on their own homes as well. In the morning, I'll see about moving to the country for a while. Business can be put on hold until all this ruckus dies down. I also gave Sadie your address in case she needs me, but I did stress that she was not to use it unless necessary."

Hermione shifted Scorpius on her lap. Perhaps she should offer the child to his father, but she found she didn't want to let him go just yet. "Speaking of business, was your meeting fruitful?" She didn't know why she had to know the answer, but it seemed imperative for some reason.

Draco shook his head and rubbed the kitten's ears. "No, afraid not. My contact never arrived." He looked at Scorpius. Hermione thought she saw a flash of guilt in his eyes before his face hardened. "I suspect it was a ruse to separate me from Scorpius for a few minutes. Just long enough."

"I don't understand why they'd bother," she said. "Surely they – whoever they might have been – would have known that I'd be with him. And if not, they'd have noticed that I was once we arrived at Vauxhall."

Draco laughed under his breath, but even at that low volume she could hear the bitter edge to it. "You're Muggle-born, Miss Granger. Worthless magic, didn't you know? No better than that false magician with his tricks and pretend." He shook his head and put the kitten down, then stood and held his hands out. "I'll take him. He's a bit big for lap-sitting."

"I don't mind. He needed the comfort." And so did she, but she wouldn't say that to Draco. Not when it was tempting to ask him if he'd give her that comfort. Tempting and confusing. "I was planning to put him to bed, actually. He's been asleep long enough that I don't think the movement will wake him." She nodded at her bedroom door. "If you could turn down the blankets, though? Then we'll take a look at that black eye."

Hermione gave a wavering smile as Draco's expression shifted to surprise and he prodded at the skin around his eye. He made a disgruntled sound and disappeared into her room. She heard him arranging the bedclothes as she gathered Scorpius up. Once the boy was settled into her bed, the blankets drawn around his shoulders and the kitten nestled at his side, Hermione nursed Draco's eye with arnica paste and a soft flannel. They both seemed too exhausted by the day's events to speak much, and Hermione startled when Draco laid his hand on her arm as he stood. "Thank you, Miss Granger. For a great many things."

She smiled at him and patted his hand. "It's all right, Mister Malfoy. It will _be_ all right."

Draco looked at her in silence, then nodded, his smile flickering into place. "Of course. And now I believe we should all get some sleep. Could you fetch a pillow for me? I'll take the chair, there."

"Don't be ridiculous. Take the bed with Scorpius. If he wakes up in the night, he'll be much less disoriented if you're with him. I'll sleep out here. It's only for one night." She shooed him into the bedroom.

Hermione woke a few hours later with a crick in her neck and a kitten on her lap. She scratched behind the kitten's ears. "You should be with your master," she said, picking the little animal up and cradling it under her chin. "He'll worry about you if he wakes and you're gone." She got up and went into the room to put the kitten back into bed. Scorpius was a lump under the blankets; Draco was stretched out prone on top of them, with his hand on Scorpius' back.

She knew she shouldn't, but she gave into temptation for a moment, thinking he was asleep and it wouldn't matter. She brushed Draco's hair out of his face, pulling it back to spread over the pillow. Her idle thoughts and dreams had been right, she discovered. His hair was as soft as ermine.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione snatched her hand back, staring down at Draco, but he didn't move. He hadn't spoken. She looked to the other side of the bed to see Scorpius sitting up and watching her, with the blankets clenched in his fists. "Miss Granger, I heard a noise."

Hermione circled the bed and sat on the edge beside Scorpius, putting her arm around him. "It was only me, sweetheart. Only me moving around. I'm sorry I woke you. Lie back down, go to sleep."

He shook his head and burrowed against her side, clinging to her gown. "Stay with me," he said. "Please. I don't want to wake Papa, and I can't go back to sleep alone. Stay until I'm asleep, please."

Hermione patted his hair and agreed, her heart trembling at the fear he was trying to hide in his voice. The poor child. He'd had a terrifying end to his day, and was in a strange place. Anyone would be a little uncertain after that. She leaned back against the headboard and rubbed Scorpius' back, waiting for him to sleep.

* * *

The sun on her face woke Hermione the next morning. She gave a yawn and stretched, then stiffened as an arm flexed over her side. The previous night's events flashed through her mind, and she prayed the arm belonged to Scorpius, but even as she looked down, she knew it was too large to be the child's. The hand draped over her waist bore an elaborate signet ring, with a curlicued M at the center. Malfoy.

Draco.

Hermione caught her breath as her movements stirred the man behind her. His arm tightened, pulling her close, and he murmured in his sleep, his mouth so close to her ear that his breath made her shiver. She held still, desperate not to move and awaken him, then as his arm tightened again and he nuzzled into her hair, she decided that was a horrible idea. "Mister Malfoy," she murmured. It was best to have him awake so he would let go of her and they could both pretend this hadn't happened. "Mister Malfoy, wake up."

He sighed in his sleep and she felt his lips move against her ear. Hermione shivered again and wriggled to turn over enough to push against his chest. Once she'd started, she couldn't stop, and she found herself completely turned over with his arm around her. "Mister Malfoy," she said again, trying to ignore the strength in his grip and the feel of his heart thumping beneath her hand.

He shifted, his legs moving, and one foot slid between hers. Hermione held her breath at the realization that the skirts of her gown had slipped well up in her sleep, and her legs were exposed to above her knee, only her stockings keeping her covered. She could feel Draco's breath stirring her hair, Draco's fingers twitching on her waist, the ridge of Draco's hip pressing against her stomach. Hermione's eyes shot wide as Draco twitched in his sleep, his body moving against hers. It stirred something deep in her abdomen, something she knew she couldn't allow herself to feel. "Mister Malfoy," she yelped, shoving at his chest. "Wake up!"

"Are you quite certain you want to disturb him? He looks exhausted."

Hermione gasped and struggled to sit up as a voice came from the bedroom door. She managed to raise up enough to see a tall woman in an emerald gown, blond hair piled atop her head in an elegant chignon with a silk ribbon twined through her curls. "Miss Granger, I presume. I find myself in a bit of a quandary this morning. An hour ago, a house-elf arrived to inform me of last night's events, and I rushed here to render some assistance to my son and grandchild, fearing the worst. I stepped through the Floo to find Scorpius attempting to give a kitten a bath in a bucket, and Draco--"

She gestured with one hand, her white gloves pristine. The sapphire bracelet encircling her wrist gleamed as her arm moved. "Well. He appears quite comfortable. With you. In your bed. It seems my assistance may not be necessary. Draco seems to be satisfied with your ... services."

Hermione gasped and struggled again to disentangle herself from Draco's grip. In her flailing, she dislodged his arm from her waist, only to have it fall to her bared thigh. She whimpered as Narcissa got a good look at Draco's hand on her person, and she shoved him away as Narcissa's narrow face twisted up in disgust.

"Mrs. Malfoy, wait. I can explain. Last night, there was such confusion and I offered him my bed." Her face flared hot. "Oh, dear heavens. It was late, and I came in to-to-to check on him, and he asked me. Rather, he said he couldn't sleep and would I please sleep with him, oh _damn_." Hermione keened and covered up her face when Narcissa spun around with a huff, slamming the door behind her. In her rush to explain, Hermione realized she'd failed to explain the him in question had been Scorpius and the sleep in question had been _sleep_.

"What the devil?"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see Draco watching her with sleepy, bewildered eyes. "Your mother's here," she said, her voice shaking.

Draco's eyes widened and he spat a profanity so vile it sent Hermione scrambling from the room.

She found Narcissa sitting calmly at her writing desk, with Scorpius standing at her side. "I'm afraid it will have to be a small affair," Narcissa said as she scratched a quill across a parchment. "The sudden nature, you understand. We'll hold it this Saturday. Four days, not much time, but we'll make it work."

Hermione pressed her hands to her mouth as a sense of foreboding filled her chest. She squeaked and Scorpius turned. He broke into a smile and charged her, flinging his arms around her legs. He beamed up at her and squeezed her tight. "Miss Granger!" he crowed. "May I be in the wedding?"

* * *

Narcissa refused to hear Hermione's protests and swept out a few minutes later with a cheery Scorpius in tow, "to fetch a proper breakfast and procure the proper license." Hermione found herself overwhelmed by Narcissa's personality and sheer commanding nature, and as she collapsed into a chair to fight back a headache, she attempted to analyze what had just happened. She decided that despite Draco's notorious resemblance to his father in so many aspects, he had inherited at least one thing from Narcissa.

"Brass-bound bollocks!"

"She _is_ quite determined, isn't she?" Hermione twisted in her chair to see Draco leaning against the bedroom door, and she flew at him with a shriek.

"Now you show up? _Now_? Where were you five minutes ago, you great ruddy coward? You could have said something to her! Corrected her! Stopped her!"

"Miss Granger." Draco caught her wrists and held her in place. He looked down at her with one eyebrow lifted. "There is no correcting or stopping Narcissa Malfoy when she's on a mission. I assume she's gone to the Ministry to purchase a wedding license."

"You were listening, you prat! Why didn't you do something?"

Draco raised the other brow. "I saw no reason to do so." Over her sputters, he continued. "We were outright caught sleeping in the same bed, Miss Granger. Marriages have been arranged over far less. Even if my mother were to keep quiet about what she saw, how long do you think it would take Scorpius to let slip that his father had been in bed with you? A child's innocent observation would evolve into a remarkable scandal in an hour's time, given society's ability with the rumor mill. Goyle wouldn't remain quiet any longer, either, if you'll care to remember what he thinks he knows about our relationship."

Hermione stood still as she absorbed that, and Draco released her to pace the room. "I also saw no reason to stop her because, quite frankly, this solves a large problem for me. You know I've been hunting a mother for Scorpius. He's clearly bonded with you already, so why should I waste time looking for a different woman he may not like so much? You've demonstrated that you're willing to care for and protect him, which has been one of my primary criteria all along. Scorpius' magical abilities or lack thereof are not a deficiency anymore, thanks to your tutelage. I feel confident that continued exposure to you and your instruction will enhance his life greatly. As well, this is a boon to you. Your finances will no longer be a concern. Muggle-born versus pure-blood is a bit of a dilemma, but as my only child is looking to be a Squib, the lineage is ending anyway, so what does it matter? The scandal of marrying a Muggle-born for me is far less than the scandal of not marrying the man in your arms and your bed for you, so overall, I'm not seeing why you're in such a snit."

Hermione, so stunned by Draco's speech that she'd been unable to make a sound through it, found her voice. "Because I'm now engaged to a _madman_. Mister Malfoy, this is ridiculous. Everything you've said is-is-is, well. All right, it's true. But this is daft. I adore your son, but I have few to no, er. But my feelings for you aren't-- You've already admitted you don't even like me. Why on earth would I marry into that?"

"Think very hard, Miss Granger, on what I told you about my first wife." Draco's voice seemed to make the temperature of the room drop several degrees. "Think about that, and ask yourself if you believe that _feelings_ are a large concern for me in a marriage." He paused, his brows knotting. "This time, that is."

Hermione hesitated, then nodded slowly, acknowledging the point. If one left emotion out of the equation, then Draco's arguments did lead to a logical conclusion. Marriages of convenience were common. It would solve most of his problems and her major one. If she were to give a marriage serious consideration, she _should_ leave emotions out.

If only she didn't have the feeling she couldn't. "Mister Malfoy," she said, searching for a good reason to protest further, "I don't know about this."

He seemed to spot the breakdown of her objections, and he spoke again. "Scorpius likes you, Miss Granger. I told you I want to provide him with the best. Do you truly want to refuse me so much that you will leave me no option but to pick someone who may not understand and care for him as well as you? Do you want to disappoint him with an inferior caretaker? An inferior mother? An inferior _witch_?"

Hermione set her jaw and folded her arms, staring at Draco. He knew she couldn't refuse Scorpius, and if that was a smirk she saw in his expression, she was going to slap it off his face. "That's dirty Quidditch, Mister Malfoy."

He spread his hands and shrugged. "It's the only way I know to play."

* * *

Hermione paced the drawing room of Draco's estate house in Wiltshire. The week had gone by in a blur of planning, dress-making, fretting, and arguing with her friends. Lav, Ginny, Harry - everyone had put in desperate efforts to talk her out of the wedding. If Scorpius had not been so constantly on her mind, she would have given in without a qualm. If she were being honest with herself, though, she wouldn't have got so enmeshed in the first place. She didn't care about the scandal, she was smart and resourceful enough to discover another way to solve her financial woes, and she really had no objection to leaving Draco in the lurch. It was Scorpius that had secured her agreement in the first place, and Scorpius who lent strength to her backbone as she stood up to her friends.

Lav cracked first, surrendering to the drama of what she thought would make a whirlwind of a romantic novel. Harry surrendered to Ginny's arguments, and Ginny's maternal caring surrendered to the needs of a child. One day halfway through the planning for the wedding, Ginny, Hermione, Lav, and Scorpius met for frozen ices. Hermione and Scorpius were taking a break from shopping for supplies. Lessons did not need to stop for a wedding, she'd decided, and Scorpius had agreed with cheery enthusiasm. They spent a pleasant hour talking, Scorpius chattering and full of glee about his lessons, his kitten, and the new suit Draco had ordered for him for the wedding. Ginny tossed Hermione several glances over the course of their conversation, occasionally touching her prominent, pregnancy-rounded stomach. Just as Hermione had expected, once Ginny met Scorpius, her objections faded.

She'd even relented so far as to help Scorpius decide on a gift for the wedding. Hermione had pretended not to notice their whispered conversation outside the stationer's, and had hidden her smiles and chatted with Lav as Scorpius and Ginny sneaked inside to purchase a set of quills and ink on Draco's account. Hermione gave Ginny a careful hug and a murmured thank-you when she agreed to talk Harry into attending the wedding despite his misgivings and old school rivalries. Knowing her best friends would be there to support her had given her the last burst of courage she needed to go through with it all.

Now, as she paced the room in her new claret-red gown, she tried to hold back tears. Ginny had sent an apologetic note the previous morning. Harry had agreed to attend, but Ginny had fallen prey to morning sickness and couldn't stomach the rigors of magical travel, whether by Floo or Apparition, and Harry wasn't willing to risk his pregnant wife on a broom. Lav was supposed to be in attendance, but the dear girl was notoriously late for every social engagement, even beyond the boundaries of excusable tardiness. She had no hope that Lav would make it to the wedding. Hermione would stand up and marry without a single one of her friends there for her. Hermione dashed her hand across her eyes and took a deep breath as the clock struck the quarter-hour chimes. She had to get herself together. "You can do this," she said to her reflection as she examined her face for evidence of crying. "You thought about it, you decided to go through with it, and you know it will be good for the child. Scorpius needs you, and overall this is not such a bad situation. Things could be much worse."

"Miss Granger." Hermione jumped as Draco's voice came from the room behind her, and she spun to stare at him. His wedding finery seemed incongruent with the somber look on his face as he crossed the room to stand in front of her. His usual poise seemed forgotten as he looked at her, and when he spoke, his voice held the raw, surprising honesty she'd heard in their first conversation at his home in Philter Square. "Miss Granger, you don't have to do this. It was my mother's misconception that started this, and I didn't do anything to correct it. I saw a way to solve my problems, and didn't take much concern for how you might feel. I manipulated you into agreement. I used your concern for my son to force your hand. I admit that, and I apologize for it. I know you didn't want to do this and you were willing to face the consequences of any scandal. If that's still on your mind, if you're unwilling to go through with this wedding, I will not object if you choose to withdraw. I've already married one reluctant woman. It would be a disservice to my son to do so again."

He swallowed and looked down at his boots, avoiding her eyes. Hermione was glad he'd done so. She didn't think she was able to hide her confusion and the strange sense of compassion she was feeling for Draco at that moment. She reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder. "I agreed to this, Mister Malfoy, and I still agree. I'm not going to back out now. This wasn't anywhere near my plans, but it's the right thing to do for Scorpius. I'm going to go through with this and we'll figure things out. It will be all right. Just need to be reasonable."

She gave a small smile and patted his shoulder with some awkwardness. "I do have to admit it's odd that I'm about to marry you, of all people. We're different, on an incredible number of levels, but a lot of marriages can work that way. My parents never met until their wedding day. We might not like each other much, might never be able to work out our differences of politics and beliefs more than necessary to raise Scorpius, but at least we're not complete strangers."

She intended to be comforting, to reassure Draco that she would shoulder responsibility for his son as she'd promised, but found herself welling up. Draco glanced at her and his brows furrowed. She knew he was about to give her the option of walking away again. She shook her head before he could speak. "Don't. I'm a little discomfited, that's all. My friends won't be here, your mother seems to think I trapped you into marriage deliberately, and you don't like me. I'm doing this for Scorpius, and I've tried to be logical about it. I'm just disappointed. It's silly, but I had carried some hope I might make a love match at some point. You're a good father, and I'm certain you'll be a responsible husband, but it's difficult to give up that dream. We haven't the slightest bit of affection between us."

Draco watched her eyes, then his expression shifted. He seemed to come to a decision. He cupped her cheeks and leaned in, shushing her when she started to speak. Hermione's mind raced nearly as fast as her heart, as she realized she knew what he was about to do. Draco lifted her chin and bent his head. His lips brushed across hers.

It was the most surprising thing he could have done. Hermione held her breath, her eyes open as Draco pulled back. His cheeks were flushed as though he were embarrassed with himself. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger," he said, his voice soft. "You're doing so much for me, that I had this sudden impulse to do something for you. Give you a bit of that dream, if I could. My apologies for being so forward."

Hermione giggled and Draco blinked, the pink color of his cheeks deepening. "My turn to apologize," she said, stifling more giggles. "I wasn't laughing at you. Only the situation. It's a little humorous, you must admit. We're going to be married in a few minutes and you're apologizing for being forward?"

It took a moment, then Draco gave a small smile. "I suppose that is a bit mad, yes." He cleared his throat and stood up straight. "That's not why I came in here, however. I've a surprise for you. Wedding gift, if you will."

Hermione took Draco's extended hand and let him lead her to the window. Outside, a carriage sat in the middle of the white pebbles paving the drive. As Hermione watched, a dark-haired man leapt out and helped a pregnant woman to the ground. Hermione's eyes welled up and spilled over, tears dripping to her chin as Harry and Ginny stood waiting for Lav to emerge from the carriage. Draco stood next to her and murmured. "Sadie told me about your friends. I sent the carriage out for them before dawn."

Hermione's breath stuck in her chest and she pressed both hands to the glass of the window. A house-elf greeted her friends and led them toward the building. With a sob, Hermione turned to Draco, slipped her arms around him, and went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Draco took her hand and bowed over it. "No, Miss Granger. Thank you."

* * *

Harry, Ginny, and Lav made up the bride's guests. For the groom, the attendees were Narcissa, Scorpius, and to Hermione's surprise, Lucius. He seemed distant during the ceremony and Narcissa bundled him off in their carriage within minutes of the exchange of vows. Hermione stroked her fingers over the silver ribbon Draco had tied around her wrist. A matching one encircled his arm. They'd tied the knot in magical fashion, been bound together for life. It wasn't the life she'd expected or planned, but she was determined to make the best of it for Scorpius.

Hermione looked to Draco as the remainder of their guests waved and drove away from the house, the four pale geldings prancing out through the gates. "It was polite of your father to come," she said, putting on a smile. She was sure Narcissa had insisted on that, as their only son married. Even though Lucius had looked through her as if she didn't exist, she appreciated that he'd been there for Draco's sake.

She realized she'd said that aloud when Draco sighed and spoke. "He wasn't ignoring you, Miss Gra-Mrs. Malfoy. He didn't know you were there. I doubt very much he knows he just attended a wedding."

Hermione stared at him in confusion as he leaned against the balustrade of the terrace and watched Scorpius tear across the grass with a kite. "He did seem distracted. Is something wrong?"

"My father's ill," Draco said, folding his arms. "Not long after my first wedding, he contracted dragon pox. We did what we could, but even our resources couldn't encourage the Healers to achieve the impossible." He took a deep breath and shook his head, then ran his fingers through the queue of his hair. "It's been a slow progression, but about a year ago, the pox settled into his brain. We're keeping it quiet, but he's not well. My mother has spent the past year doing nothing but care for him. He wasn't ignoring you today. He didn't know you." Draco's voice tightened. "A good half of the time, he doesn't know me."

Comprehension settled in and Hermione felt a wave of compassion flow over her. She knew how important his family was to Draco, how much they meant to him. To go unrecognized by his own father was a pain she couldn't imagine. "That's why you couldn't leave Scorpius with your parents when you went out of town. I thought it was because of your father's politics, but I was wrong."

Draco nodded. "My mother has plenty going on with to care for my father, and I couldn't ask her to take on the additional burden of Scorpius, even for a few days. It's difficult enough to care for a near-invalid without adding the troubles of having to do so without magic because of a little boy's fears. She'd have done it if I'd asked, but I couldn't ask her. Not when she's doing so much already."

Hermione moved closer and gave into the impulse to lay her hand on Draco's arm. He looked at her fingers for a moment, at the gold ring he'd slid on her hand during the ceremony, then put his hand over hers. "You're quite like her, you know. When you've made a decision, your mind cannot be changed. You're determined to do what's best, what's right for those around you. You adore my son even when you're not pleased with me."

He squeezed her fingers and gave her a small smile. "I'm pleased with you, though, I hope you don't mind my saying. Grateful, I suppose. You're helping me out more than you know." His smile faded as his eyes grew distant. "Helping me keep a promise to my father. Suppose I didn't need to worry about it, as I doubt he remembers, but I felt it was something I needed to do."

Hermione stood in bewilderment for a few seconds, then looked out over the gardens at a laughing Scorpius, who had turned to dragging the tail of his kite across the grass for his kitten to chase. "A mother for your son. Your wife hunt. You promised your father you'd marry for Scorpius."

"Whatever it took, by any means necessary." Draco raised his head and watched his son play. "He gave me everything a wizard could dream, so that I would be able to do the same for my son, as his father had done for him. I can't give Scorpius the wizarding world on a platter, but I will give him every opportunity otherwise. I promised my father I would give Scorpius a future and a life that would make the family proud, to the best of my ability. Today may have been the first step towards keeping that promise."

Hermione turned her hand under his so they touched palm to palm. "No, Draco. You took that step when you decided to hire a person you disliked because you were able to look past that long enough to see the benefits for your child. Turning over your own opinions to help your son. You've been keeping your promise all along."

* * *

They spent the remainder of the day in pleasant pursuits, with Draco taking Hermione on a tour of the house, rebuilt after the fire that had destroyed half of the original building. Hermione admired the various rooms and outbuildings, but most of her admiration was reserved for the efforts Draco had put into making the house and its operations reliant on little magic. A dumbwaiter went from the kitchens to the upstairs halls so the house-elf servants wouldn't need to levitate trays or pop in and out of rooms. A large boiler in the cellar heated water with the aid of a long-running charm so baths could be taken and clothing washed without the need for wandwork. Several other devices and mechanisms helped to run the house, and Hermione made a few suggestions of modern Muggle technology. Draco seemed intrigued by the concept of gas lighting, and he only sulked for a few minutes at Hermione's gales of laughter after he grudgingly admitted Muggles weren't useless with their inventions.

All in all, it was an amiable wedding day. After a small dinner, Hermione curled into a chair with Scorpius and read to him from one of the books Harry and Ginny had brought for a wedding gift, while Draco worked on correspondence. Despite the late hour, she had no wish to go to bed. She may have married Draco to halt his mother's fears of scandal and to care for his son, but the idea of sharing a bed with a man she hardly knew was one she didn't want to examine. She suspected Draco had no interest in her bed in any case. Intimacies with a Muggle-born were surely low on his list of preferences.

There had been the night of the riot, and she flushed to remember that his body hadn't seemed to object to her presence then, but she told herself that he'd been asleep and it didn't count. Hermione turned a page of her book and focused on the story, but Scorpius put his hand over the page and looked up at her. "Miss Granger, what do I call you now? You're not Miss Granger any more. Should I call you Mrs. Malfoy?"

Hermione held her breath as the question rolled through her mind. Even with the wedding ceremony and the wedding vows, she hadn't thought about it, hadn't fully realized that she was now Draco's _wife_. She chewed her lip and glanced at Draco, who was watching her with a question in his eyes. She looked away, looked down at Scorpius, and managed a smile. "If you like. Or you may call me Hermione. Or Mummy, if you feel comfortable with that."

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. How about Miss Hermione?"

She didn't know what to say to that, as a small pang of disappointment went through her, but Draco spoke for her. "That will be fine, Scorpius. Properly respectful. Now I think it is far past your bedtime. You've had a long day and another tomorrow. We'll be going to visit your grandparents."

Scorpius scrambled out of the chair and went to give Draco a hug. "No, we won't," he said. His voice was pitched low, but Hermione still heard him. Young boys did not whisper well. "We won't be going over. Grandpa is taking a nap in the temple." He bounded over to Hermione, leaving that confusing announcement hanging in the air, and gave her a hug as well before running out the door.

Hermione stared at Draco, who shrugged. "Who knows where children get their ideas? He told me last week you were going to help him find a silver kitten. Personally, I think one is quite enough." The clock struck the hour and Draco's eyes lowered to the parchments on his desk. "It's late. I believe I'll be off to bed as well. Sadie will show you to your room when you're ready."

"_My_ room?" Hermione blinked at him. They'd started to tour the upstairs earlier that day, but Scorpius had been so excited to show Hermione the schoolroom that they'd passed by the bedchambers entirely. She hadn't realized she'd been given her own quarters. She stifled yet another pang of disappointment, trying not to wonder why this one had come. "Of course. Logical. I thought you wouldn't be keen on sharing your suite with me," she said, nodding as she supposed her earlier theory had been correct. "I'm not one of the pure-blood ladies I'm sure you prefer to take to bed. No playing in the dirt for you, despite Mister Goyle's insinuations."

Draco gave her a long look, then tossed his quill down and stood. "I see. I thought I had made it clear that I no longer hold those old opinions so close. No matter how intelligent you are, and how good for my son, I would never have agreed to hire you in the first place were that so, much less marry you. I'm certain that in the bedroom, all witches are much alike regardless of birth and breeding. I had Sadie give you a suite of your own because I had no desire to demand marital rights I thought you would be reluctant to grant, due to the arranged nature of this hasty marriage, not because the idea of your background disgusted me. As long as you continue to do all you can for my son, your Muggle parentage means little to me, and quite frankly, you are an attractive woman, and I would not object to having your Muggle body in my bed."

Hermione flushed and opened her mouth, but Draco interrupted her. "I find myself a bit disgusted _now_, but that is due to your assumptions. It seems I'm not the only one with some prejudices. At least I appear to be learning my way around mine. Thank you for that. Good night, Mrs. Malfoy." He stalked from the room and Hermione sank into her chair, her hand to her forehead.

* * *

A ruckus woke her in the early hours, pulling her out of a dream of the warmth of ermine and a gentle, unexpected kiss. Hermione pulled on a wrap and went into the corridor. A house-elf brushed her skirts as it rushed to Draco's room, and she followed, her senses flaring in warning. "I'll come back if I need to organize a search party," she heard Draco saying as she stepped into his room. "Do _not_ wake Scorpius, do not alarm him. Or Mrs. Malfoy."

"A bit late for that," she said. Draco spun around. The look on his face sent her a step back, and his state of undress sent her back another. Other than his half-fastened trousers, he wore nothing, and she blushed at seeing him so disheveled. Why it unsettled her now that they were married and hadn't before when he'd come home bruised from the hunting party, she couldn't explain. "What's going on?" she asked to distract herself from her own thoughts.

Draco snatched a shirt from a house-elf and jerked it on. "Message from my mother. My father's missing. He never leaves the house on his own. Something's wrong. I have to go, have to help find him."

Hermione heard the shake and quaver in his voice, saw the tremble in his hands as he dressed. He collapsed into a chair to yank on his boots and shoved both hands through his hair. Hermione crossed the room and brushed his fringe back, not caring if the movement was too affectionate, too forward, or too unexpected. If a woman couldn't give a little comfort to her husband of convenience at a time like this, then when could she?

Draco rubbed both hands across his face, then sighed and tipped his head into her touch. "Thank you," he muttered. He took her hand and kissed her fingers. "I have to go. Mum's bound to be frantic by now. God knows where he might have gone. The grounds are extensive."

Hermione hesitated, pieces of conversation clicking into place. "Draco, is there a folly of some sort on your parents' property?"

He looked up at her and nodded, his brows furrowed. "Yes. How did you know that?"

She chewed her lip and squeezed his fingers as she glanced towards the ceiling. _Grandpa is taking a nap in the temple._ "Draco, it's a replica temple, isn't it? Check the folly."

Draco sat frozen for a few seconds, then bolted from the chair. He swung her up in an embrace and kissed her so abruptly she had no time to breathe. "Brilliant," he crowed, setting her down. "You're brilliant." He kissed her forehead and rushed out the door.

For the next three hours, she paced the house, waiting for Draco to return home. She checked on Scorpius, who was sleeping well with his kitten curled on the pillow beside his head. She leaned against the door frame and watched him, moonlight gleaming off his pale hair. Hermione sifted through her memories, suspicion rising up through her mind. There was the night Scorpius had come to her room with what she'd thought was a dream of Draco in trouble. There was the walk through the park when he'd mentioned a giant two hours before they ran across a juggler on stilts. There were a dozen other incidents and little mentions that she'd shrugged off as a child's imagination, but as she thought about each, she realized that each and every time, Scorpius had been right. Every time he'd had what she thought was a dream or a wild fancy, he'd been right.

Hermione covered her mouth as she stared at the sleeping child. Draco'd been wrong. She'd been wrong. Scorpius wasn't a Squib.

He was a Seer.

Hermione went to her suite and tucked up at her desk, writing down every incident she could remember, every moment that Scorpius had given a hint of the future. The last item on her list was 'temple - Lucius', and she tapped her quill on the page. "If he's right," she murmured, "if he's right, this will -- dear heavens. I have to tell Draco."

"Can it wait until morning, whatever it is?"

Hermione looked up as Draco walked into her room. His shirt was filthy, his hair was askew, and he looked exhausted, but what he didn't look was devastated. She went to him, hands out. "Your father. Is he--"

"We found him. He was in the folly." Draco took a shuddering breath and Hermione wrapped her arms around him. She laid her head against his chest as his arms slid around her shoulders. "He's all right. He's alive. Mum found a note he'd left in the library." Draco shivered, his arms tightening. "It said he was going to make a swing for his grandson and that he was going to find a good tree to put it in. God knows why he had to do it right then. He's not lucid that often; I assume he had to take action while he still remembered what he wanted to do. While he still remembered that he _had_ a grandson."

Hermione urged Draco to take a seat on the chaise. She pushed him down and sat beside him, her hand locked around his. She could almost feel the fear and terror he had to have suffered in the search, and she clung to him to reassure him that she was there.

"He's very weak at the best of times," Draco continued. His free hand covered his eyes. "He must have worn himself out. His heart, it-- The Healer said-- Er. Out in the cold. Tired, and weak, and his heart."

Draco choked, his shoulders curling. Hermione clung to him as he surrendered for a moment, and she wiped his cheeks dry with the sleeve of her wrap. "He's safe now, Draco. It will be all right. He's found, he's safe." She sniffled back her own tears and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. She lingered, feeling that wasn't enough, then tipped her head. She brushed her lips across his, once, then again. Draco's arms came around her and he murmured. It sounded like a question to her and she answered. "Yes."

He pulled her into his lap, one arm wrapped behind her back, the other hand locked in her skirts. Draco kissed her with hesitation at first, until she took a deep breath and opened her mouth for him. Their tongues brushed, forcing Hermione's breath from her. She couldn't tell which of them was trembling more, and she couldn't bring herself to care. Draco's kiss was exhilarating. Nothing mattered right then, not their differences, not their politics, not their confusion and arrangements. She wanted more. She wanted him.

She ran her fingers through his hair to cradle the back of his neck and purred an encouragement against his mouth. Draco let go of her skirts and his hand moved up her side to pry apart the edges of her wrap. He settled his palm over her breast. Hermione arched into his touch, soft sounds of pleasure escaping her as Draco found her nipple and rolled it in his fingers. She could feel him growing hard beneath her. She wriggled on his lap, forcing a moan from him. "Draco," she muttered, stretching up to kiss the point of his jaw. "Draco, can we ... do you want to move to the bed?"

She felt his laugh more than heard it. Draco burrowed into her hair, his mouth finding the hollow beneath her ear. He spoke against her skin, his breath warm on her jaw. "I do. I'm not so certain it's a good idea, though. If you're doing this because you're worried about me, I don't want to take advantage. I told you, I won't be demanding my rights. If you're not certain about this?"

Hermione patted his chest. The moment to breathe was clearing her head, giving her time to consider her actions. As she looked up at Draco's pointed face and pale hair, at his concerned eyes, she came to a decision. He wasn't perfect, but he was trying. He loved his family and he had been kind to her recently, and her parents had built a relationship on less. This wasn't her plan, but she could make it work. Hermione kissed him gently, her decision made. "Yes, Draco. Besides." She smiled at him. "It is technically still our wedding night. I may insist on demanding my marital rights."

Draco laughed. He carried her to the bed and stripped off his shirt and boots as she shimmied out of her wrap. "I'm a bit nervous," she admitted. "I think you should know that in case you think I'm frightened. I'm not. Simply nervous."

Draco sat on the bed beside her and patted her hand. "Don't worry. Perfectly normal the first time. It's been a while, but I'll do my best to be gentle. If it hurts, I'm sorry, but it shouldn't hurt for long. I'll make it good if I can."

Hermione furrowed her brows, then realized just what he was alluding to. She smiled. "Draco, you're not going to hurt me. I'm not a virgin."

He blinked at her, one eyebrow lifted. She felt her cheeks heating and glanced away. "That's rather why I wasn't concerned about any scandal involved in being found in bed with you. I'm not worried about protecting any 'purity'. There's none to protect."

Draco stretched out beside her, propped up on his elbow. "I see," he said quietly. "I'm guessing things didn't end well, since you're married to me now."

Hermione nodded. "Rather not talk about it. Just wanted you to know so you wouldn't worry about hurting me. I've been with a man before. It's been four years, but I'm not a blushing schoolgirl. Might need to rely on your experience for certain things, but we'll muddle through." She took his hand and quite firmly settled it on her breast.

Draco's fingers twitched. "_My_ experience?" He sighed and leaned over her, kissing her forehead. "Since it appears we're being honest. It might have been four years for you, but you're ahead of me." Even in the dim light, Hermione could see a dark blush on his cheeks, and her eyes widened as he went on. "Not quite as experienced as you seem to think I am. There was a lot of sex in my previous marriage, but I wasn't having any of it. The last time I was with a woman was when Astoria conceived."

Hermione squeaked in surprise. "But that had to have been--" She counted up in her head, then stared at him. "_Eight_ years?"

Draco shrugged. "I could have taken a mistress, I suppose, but I figured at least one of us should keep our vows during our marriage. Then after she died, I simply didn't. Focused on Scorpius. Can't really explain it. Very amusing for my friends, though. Zabini calls me the Monk."

Hermione caught an undercurrent of pain in his tone, as light as he was attempting to make his words sound. Draco had loved his wife, and she'd been unfaithful from the beginning. The cold Malfoy exterior hid betrayal and hurt. She couldn't blame him for living so alone. Who would want to take another woman into his life after that? She knew what he must have been feeling all those years. She rolled up on her side and twined her arm around his neck. "We're a pair, aren't we?" She kissed him, trying to tell him through the action that he wasn't alone, not that moment.

Tension stiffened Draco's mouth and Hermione murmured to him. "It's all right." She drew the point of her tongue along his lower lip and kissed him again, kissed him over and over until his mouth softened. He drew her close and spread his hand across her back.

They were both nervous. Hermione could feel it in every hesitant move they made, could see it in the care Draco took as he removed her nightgown and his trousers. She laid her hand on his chest to feel his heart pounding, and she kissed him. She kissed his mouth, his jaw, his throat, and let her hand drift down his torso to wrap around his shaft. Draco cursed in a hoarse voice and thrust into her hand.

He tugged at her thigh, pulling her leg between his, and his fingers sought through her curls. Hermione gasped as he brushed over a sensitive spot in her folds. Draco raised his head to look at her with bewildered concern. "What's wrong? Do you not like that?"

"No, that's not it. It's different. I've never, er. No one has.... You see, my previous lover, he." She gave up and sighed. "It's new."

Draco flashed his brows, then a slow grin spread across his face. "Well, then this will be an adventure for you. Gryffindors like those, I hear." He twitched his fingers and chuckled as she gasped again.

It didn't take him long to send her flying. She writhed and arched under his touch, her body tightening. Draco might claim he wasn't experienced, but he seemed to know what to do. He seemed to sense when she was climbing the peak, and he slipped a finger inside her as he sucked on the tip of her breast. Hermione convulsed, a cry breaking from her throat as heat flared over her body. She felt like a woman made of glass, shining and sparkling, and then she shattered.

The world spun as she collapsed, panting for breath. Draco laughed against her ear, deep satisfaction in his voice. "That was pleasant," he murmured.

She purred and stretched. "Yes. Your turn, Mister Malfoy."

"Very generous, Mrs. Malfoy, thank you." Draco smiled at her and moved to settle between her thighs. The head of his shaft prodded at her folds and he looked up to her with a grin. "Let's see if I remember how to do this. I should be on the inside, if I'm not mistaken?"

Hermione broke up laughing. The sound shifted to a groan as Draco eased inside of her, stretching her body. His groan matched hers and Hermione shivered, another wave of heat flowing over her. Draco's movements were slow at first, giving her time to adjust to the sensations, but soon he picked up speed. Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist as he pushed up onto his hands and thrust.

His hair fell around them as he moved, the ends swaying against her shoulders and over her chest. Hermione bit back a moan when her nipples tightened in reaction. The brush of his hair, the weight of his body over hers -- Hermione lost her senses in the feeling, so lost that she startled when Draco dropped to his elbows. He clung to her shoulders and buried his face in her neck, his body stiffening. Hermione caught her breath when Draco came, one word rattling from him in a moan. As he subsided onto her, she stroked his damp hair back from his forehead, exhaustion settling into her bones. She drifted off to sleep with an unconscious smile, as her mind circled around one thought. In his moment of ecstasy, the word Draco had said was _Hermione_.

* * *

When she woke the next morning, Draco was gone. Hermione found a note propped against a tea kettle on a breakfast tray waiting by her bed. Draco's handwriting was elegant, but masculine, and she smiled to see that the loops of his letters were the same as those of his son's immature script. The note informed her that he'd gone to his parents' estate to check on his father and take care of the necessities involved in arranging more assistance for his mother. He planned to be gone for about a week. He apologized for leaving her alone the very day after the wedding, but thanked her for a pleasant evening and for what he assumed would be her continued care of Scorpius. Hermione brushed her fingers over the script of his signature, smiling. No matter how difficult it was for anyone else to believe it, she knew he was a caring, responsible man. The arrogance was a disguise. She felt special indeed to have been allowed to see past it.

After a bath, she went down to breakfast and gave a bright smile as she found Scorpius already there. Her smile faded when she remembered the list she'd made the night before. She sat at the table beside him and took a deep breath. "Scorpius, I need to talk to you."

He held up a toast soldier and smiled at her. "Of course, Miss Hermione. Are we planning new lessons? We could go through the greenhouse!"

"Maybe later. I need to talk to you about something important." She straightened her shoulders, gathering her courage. "I need to ask you about the dreams you have. The ones where you see things. Do you know what that means? Do you know what you're doing?"

Scorpius shrugged and dipped his toast in his mug of milk. "Sometimes I see things that are going to happen. Usually it's just something important for Papa. Like the day we met. I saw Papa meeting a pretty witch, but I didn't know who it was. Then it turned out to be you. I thought it was brilliant. Sometimes what I see is a little scary, but it usually works out. It did with you. I have a great teacher and Papa's happy. Don't you have dreams like that?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. No, Scorpius, I can't do that. My dreams don't come true." She stifled a bit of sorrow at having to say that, and at the reality of it. "Most people can't see things like you can. It's a rare skill." She watched him march another toast soldier across his plate to the milk, a lump forming in her throat. "It's a rare _magical_ skill."

The soldier fell to drown in the milk and Scorpius drew back in his chair, his eyes wide. "But I don't have any magic. I can't have a magical skill. Miss Hermione, I'm a Squib. Papa said so to Mister Goyle last year, and I know that's why he hired you to teach me things that I have to know how to do the way wizards _don't_. I don't have magic."

Hermione's heart trembled at the worry in his voice. It must be frightening to be told that he had the capacity for a skill he feared. "Scorpius, it's all right. You don't have to be upset. You haven't done anything wrong."

"No!" Scorpius jumped out of his chair, running to the far side of the table as she reached for him. "No magic. I can't have magic. If I have magic, then you'll go away and Papa will be sad. We'll be alone again and he won't be proud of me anymore. No magic, Miss Hermione." He dashed his hand across his eyes and sniffled.

Hermione fought past the lump of heartbreak in her throat. "Scorpius, it's all right. I promise your father will still be proud of you. I promise I won't go away." She stretched her hand out, her fingers trembling. "I'm not going anywhere. Nothing's going to happen. Did you _see_ me leaving? Did you dream about your father being sad and alone?" Fear gripped her own heart as she prayed that Scorpius had seen no such thing.

The questions made Scorpius hesitate, and he shook his head. "No. I haven't seen that."

"Have you seen anything about your Papa recently? Was he happy?"

Scorpius chewed his lip and thought. His brows furrowed, then he shook his head again. "He was angry. But it wasn't at us. It was at one of his friends. He's happy with us. He's going to take us on a picnic next week."

Hermione clapped her hands once and smiled. "There you go, then. See? There's nothing to fret about. Your father won't be sad and I'm not going to leave. It's _not_ a bad thing that you have magic. It's very good. I can teach you how to make it not so frightening. You already do so well with it around you in general. You just have to learn how to handle it in person. You like the way I teach. We can do this together, just like our other lessons."

Scorpius gave a tentative smile, then clutched the tablecloth and looked at her with pleading in his eyes. "But what if he's not proud of me anymore? Now I have to stop learning non-magic things, even though I was good at that, and he was very proud, and I'll have to start learning magic things that I wouldn't be good at, and he'll be disappointed. He won't be proud of me anymore."

"Oh, sweetheart." Hermione rounded the table and crouched down to pull him into her arms. He came without protest, snuffling into her shoulder. "Sweetheart, he'll still be proud of you. He'll be even more proud. You don't have to stop learning non-magic things. We'll keep doing those lessons. We'll just add a little more. You won't have to be frightened. Your Papa will be happy with you. I promise, Scorpius. Have I broken a promise to you yet?"

He shook his head and returned her embrace with less hesitance in his movements than before. "Can we keep this a secret, Miss Hermione?" He sniffled, looking at her with those big eyes she hadn't been able to resist once since she'd met him. "Can we keep it a secret until I get good enough to show him? I don't want him to see until I'm not scared anymore. You're a good teacher, but please?"

Hermione fought back her chagrin as her grand fantasies of a crowing triumph at Draco's return were dashed. As much as she enjoyed impressing Draco with his son's skills and her own teaching, that was far less important than making certain Scorpius was comfortable. She looked at his worried face and leaned in to kiss his forehead. She remembered how she'd felt when she first learned she was magical. She'd known nothing about it and it had exhilarated and frightened her. It must be even more frightening to a child who knew what he'd been missing all along. The yearning for something he feared must be painful. "Of course," she said, smiling at him in reassurance. "We'll keep it a secret. We won't show him until you've excelled. And you will."

* * *

The first couple of days after their conversation were spent in acclimating Scorpius to the idea that he had magic. Hermione started small, allowing him to carry her wand about the house to make him comfortable with the sight of it. She had thought about attempting to teach him wandless magic at first, but after his screaming fit when she Transfigured a house-fly into a button with only a word, she decided that it would be best to make certain that he could see the swish and flick of magic.

Things did not go well. In her passion to introduce Scorpius to this part of himself, to have him ready to acknowledge his own magical abilities when Draco returned to the estate, Hermione overwhelmed the boy with lessons. By the end of the week, Scorpius was reluctant to come to the schoolroom, and the day before Draco was due to arrive home, Scorpius refused to come to lessons at all. Hermione found him in his bedroom, hiding under his blankets and claiming that he had a stomachache. "And a headache, Miss Hermione. And a footache. Everything aches. I can't learn magic today."

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed and rested her hand on Scorpius' back as his little body shook and his voice shook even more. "I can't learn magic at all," he whimpered. "Miss Hermione, Papa is going to be angry with me for not being able to learn."

It took Hermione a good deal of effort not to let her own voice tremble as she spoke to him, her hand rubbing between his shoulder blades. She knew something ached in him, but doubted it was his stomach. From the worry in his voice, what ached was his heart. "Scorpius, sweetheart, your father will not be angry with you. I won't allow it."

Scorpius didn't seem to be convinced that Hermione would be able to calm Draco down, but with her efforts at reassuring him, he settled and stopped crying. He fell asleep as Hermione patted his hair in gentle strokes. She left him once she was certain he was well into dreams, and that those dreams were pleasant. She ordered one of the house-elves to stay with him and fetch her immediately in case they turned out not to be, and she walked through the house, lost in thought.

She found herself in Draco's study, putting away quills and straightening books. She settled into the window seat with a handkerchief of Draco's that she'd found, and she looked out over the extensive gardens behind the house. Draco needed to know that Scorpius was a Seer, needed to know that his son wasn't a Squib, but she couldn't ignore Scorpius' fear and worry that Draco would not be proud of his inability to use magic properly. No one could be expected to know how to be a wizard after only a week of training, especially not a child of his age - Hogwarts didn't start educating wizarding children until they were eleven, after all - but Scorpius was so much like his father, demanding the best from himself and those around him, that she understood his concerns.

Hermione toyed with the handkerchief, letting Draco's scent surround her, as she shut her eyes and tried to think her way around the issue. Nothing seemed to make any logical sense to her, nothing seemed to be right in her mind, and Hermione thumped her head against the wall behind her. She wished Draco was there to talk this out with her.

Her eyes snapped open. That had been an unexpected thought. Always before, when she had a problem she couldn't quite come to grips with on her own, she wanted to talk to Ginny or Lav or even Harry, but this time she wanted to talk to Draco? Hermione clutched the handkerchief tighter, confused. It made no sense to her that he was the first person she thought of when she needed a discussion with someone. Was it because of the weeks they'd spent with each other over meals and lesson plans, working on Scorpius' care together? She did miss having those talks with him, but did she miss him to that extent? Hermione considered it, then bit her lip with some surprise. She did. She missed him. They'd seen each other every day for months, they were married now, and she missed him.

Hermione drifted off, considering this new turn of events, and she woke several hours later with a blanket draped over her shoulders. The room was full of candlelight, reflecting off the dark window beside her, and she looked around with some disorientation until she realized she wasn't alone in the room. Draco was sitting at his desk. "You're home early," she said, and winced at the banality of the statement.

"I finished ahead of schedule." Draco scratched his quill across a parchment before looking up. A small pair of silver spectacles gleamed at the end of his nose. Hermione thought they made him look rather distinguished, as though the warrior angel had turned scholar. She climbed out of the window seat and tugged the blanket up around her shoulders as she walked to Draco's side. He leaned back in the chair, rubbing at his temples. "I managed to locate a nurse to assist my mother in caring for Father. We'll have to see how she does."

He pulled the spectacles off his nose and tossed them onto his desk, then glanced up to her with one side of his mouth curled up. "I see the house is still standing and all of the house-elves are alive. Already you're an improvement on my first wife."

Hermione's eyes widened and she gaped at Draco, at a loss for how to respond until she realized the curl of his mouth was a smile, not a sneer. "Very funny, Mister Malfoy."

"I have my moments." Draco undid the ribbon holding back his hair and combed his fingers through the strands. Hermione tried not to remember how soft his hair had been when it brushed over her shoulders and breasts on their wedding night. She had to resist the temptation to push his hand aside and run her fingers into his hair. She wasn't one of those novel heroines Lav constantly mentioned. Even if, as his wife, she did technically have the right to touch him, she didn't think she had the courage.

She realized he was watching her with an expectant look, and she flushed as if he could have seen the direction of her thoughts. "I'm sorry. Off thinking again. Did you say something?"

"I asked if everything had been all right while I was gone. Nothing crucial. It can wait until morning." He glanced away, shifting in his chair as his expression changed to uncertainty. "I picked up the post on the way home. There's a parcel for you. From me. If you'll accept it."

Hermione eyed him, brows furrowed, as he rose and took a large, squarish package from a table near the wall. He held it out to her without meeting her eyes. Hermione draped her blanket over Draco's chair and took the parcel. "You bought me a present?"

"In lieu of a honeymoon," he said with a short, sidelong look.

Hermione held her tongue despite feeling that she should protest. Their marriage was one of convenience, not one for gifts. The reason she didn't speak up was that the parcel felt like a book. Hermione bit her lip and tore off the thick brown paper. She ran her fingers over the embossed leather cover. The author's name at the top of the spine was Chroniculus Punnet. Hermione's breath caught as she realized that she held an elegant edition of _Hogwarts: A History_. It was easily the most elaborate version of the book that she'd ever seen, including the original manuscript in the library at Hogwarts. Hermione paged through the book, her eyes going rounder with each chapter. Beautiful printing, hand-tinted illustrations, vellum pages, red and gold marbled end covers. The dedication page, though, was the most astonishing thing about the book.

_To my Wife, Hermione Jean Granger Malfoy, on the Occasion of our Marriage. Any Woman with even a third of your Courage, Intelligence, and Resolve would make any Man quite fortunate,_

_Draco Lucius Malfoy, most Fortunate indeed_.

Hermione closed the book and set it on the desk, her fingers lingering on the cover. She had no idea if Draco had known how much she loved that book in school, if he had known that she'd read her first copy so often the binding had frayed and fallen apart. He couldn't have purchased a more perfect present for her.

Hermione crossed the room to where Draco stood at the window and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Mister Malfoy, thank you. Thank you so much. This is the best gift I've ever received. I wish I could do something for you that was nearly as perfect."

He turned, taking her hand, and smiled at her. "You have. You've given my son confidence and a chance for a future. That is the best gift for me." He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, then brought her hand up to his lips for a quick kiss.

Hermione held her breath, surprised by the tenderness in the gesture. The affection was unexpected, and it made her feel warm, which made her want to feel bold. She slid her free hand around the back of his neck, his hair warm on her fingers, and drew him down for a kiss. Draco made a soft noise of puzzlement that faded into an even softer murmur of approval as his lips molded to hers.

Draco's arms wrapped around her waist. His hands spread across her back, her hands caressed his shoulders, and they kissed until Hermione felt a fluttering deep in her abdomen. She broke the kiss and pulled away to see a dark glaze in Draco's eyes. He blinked and cleared his throat, then shoved his hair away from his forehead as he took a step back. "You're wel-welcome," he said in a thick voice. "Good night, Hermione."

She watched him leave, her fingers resting against her lower lip and her eyes wide.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, the household settled into a comfortable routine. Draco took care of the affairs of the estate while Hermione and Scorpius did lessons, both Muggle and magical. They shared dinner as a group and gathered in the library for reading or quiet games before bed. Hermione grew to think of those evenings as family time, and looked forward to them more than she was willing to admit.

One night, Draco and Scorpius played a game of chess while she went through letters and invitations. Many of them were from people curious about her marriage to Draco. Hermione consigned those to the fire without a qualm. She had no intention of satisfying prurient interests. Her marriage was no one's business but hers. She picked up the next letter, furrowing her brows at it. The black wax holding it closed had been sealed with a blank wafer. She didn't know anyone currently in mourning.

As she opened the letter, Scorpius captured one of Draco's rooks, and spoke without looking up from the chessboard. "Don't answer that one, Miss Hermione." He arranged the few pieces he'd captured from Draco, lining the pawns up along the edge of the marble board. "Don't go to meet him, either."

Hermione looked at the unsigned letter, at the unfamiliar handwriting. She scraped her teeth over her lip and set the letter down, pushing it out of reach. She moved her chair to sit beside Scorpius and laid her hand on his arm. Draco looked from wife to son, his pale eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"

Hermione ignored him. "Tell me what you saw, Scorpius. Who wrote the letter and why shouldn't I answer it?"

Scorpius glanced to Draco. Hermione reached out to cup his chin and turn his face to hers. "Tell me, Scorpius. What did you see?"

He took a deep breath, his hands twisting around the rook he'd captured. "I don't know him. I didn't see him. I only saw the letter." His voice shook as he spoke and he kept his eyes locked on hers, his brows knotted in an expression so like Draco's that she had to struggle not to smile. He was clearly uncertain about speaking around Draco, about talking of his dreams and visions where his father could hear, and Hermione knew the smallest thing could shut him down.

"I only saw the letter," he repeated, his words fading to whispers. "It's not true, what's written in there. He doesn't want to apologize. He's angry with you for marrying Papa. He's unhappy because the woman he wanted is gone and he wants to cause trouble. So you shouldn't go to meet him." Scorpius dropped the rook on the board and grabbed her hand as the piece rolled to knock over his king. "Don't go, Miss Hermione. He'll hurt you again."

"What is going on here?" Draco's voice was quiet, but both Hermione and Scorpius flinched. There was irritation in the words, clear aggravation in his tone, and Hermione knew he'd have shouted if his son were not in the room. "Someone is going to give me an explanation, and right this moment."

Scorpius drew back in his chair and Hermione heard Draco inhale. She stood and plucked Scorpius from his seat. "Mister Malfoy, wait. Wait here." Scorpius wrapped around her, his face buried in her shoulder, as she carried him from the room. Draco stared after them, and Hermione moved as fast as she could without running, determined to get out of the room before he he recovered from the surprise of her order.

"Don't fret, sweetheart," she murmured to Scorpius as she carried him upstairs to his room. "Don't you fret. Nothing's wrong. You did just what I asked, Scorpius."

He whimpered, shaking his head against her shoulder. "He's angry. I told you he'd be upset with me. He's not proud, Miss Hermione. You _lied_ to me."

Hermione's eyes stung and she clung to Scorpius. "Sweetheart, no. He's not angry. He's confused. He doesn't know what's happening, that's all. Your father is not angry with you." She tried to put him down on his bed, but he held her too tight. She sat down with him in her lap. "Scorpius, your father is not angry with you. He's simply confused. I'm going to talk to him and everything will be all right."

"Are you going to tell him about my dreams?"

Hermione brushed his fringe out of his eyes and kissed his forehead. "I need to tell him, Scorpius. He needs to know. He's your father. I promise that he won't be angry with you. I promise that he won't be any less proud of you for being new at magic, for having your dreams. He'll be just as proud of you as he's always been. I wouldn't let him be anything else."

It took her over an hour to calm him down and get him to sleep. In that hour, she forced herself not to consider what Draco must be thinking, forced herself to concentrate solely on the child. She could worry about Draco later.

Later turned out to be in the corridor outside Scorpius' door. Draco grabbed her arm and dragged her into his bedroom. He shoved her in a chair over her protests and complaints, and he loomed over her, his hands on the back of the chair and his nose only inches from hers. "You have ten seconds to tell me what is wrong with my son or I will exercise my rights as your husband and beat the information out of you."

"That took you ten seconds to say, you realize." Hermione refused to let Draco's anger make her cower. She knew it wasn't anger. It was worry and fear, and she understood. "There's nothing wrong with Scorpius, Mister Malfoy. Nothing wrong except that he is terrified that you're angry with him. He's been worried for weeks. I'm really quite exasperated with you at the moment for not _noticing_ that your son has been anxious around you since our wedding."

She leaned forward until the tip of her nose brushed his, and she stared into his eyes, noticing for the first time that the pale grey had a thin ring of blue around his pupils. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with your son. There's something very _right_ with him. Something you need to know. He asked me to promise not to tell you."

Hermione put her hands on Draco's shoulders and pushed him away. He stepped back without resistance, though his nose wrinkled in evident mistrust. Hermione went through the door that connected their suites and returned with the list she'd made. She handed it to Draco. "Scorpius isn't a Squib. Your son has magic. It simply manifested in a manner you didn't expect. Not in charms or transfiguration, nothing to do with wands and spells. Not yet, at least. I'm trying to teach him, but with his history and his fears, it's slow going. He _has_ magic. He's afraid of it, though."

She made the speech in one breath, not giving Draco the chance to speak until she had to inhale.

"What on earth are you babbling about?" he said, brandishing the parchment. "What is this? What magic?"

He sounded confused, and she suspected he had no idea that he also sounded frightened. He hid behind his arrogance, let that be the face everyone saw, be the voice everyone heard. Only when it came to his son did he let himself become unstrung. Hermione wondered how it would feel to have someone care that much for her. She'd thought she'd had it once. She took a deep breath and patted Draco's shoulder. "Divination, Mister Malfoy. Your son's a Seer."

* * *

It seemed to take longer to settle the concept in Draco's mind than it had to help Scorpius calm down. Hermione couldn't begin to imagine what was going through his head. He'd put so much effort into preparing his son for a life without magic, into preparing _himself_ for it, and now it was unnecessary. She watched him from the chair as he paced the room, the parchment clutched in his hand. He read it over and over again, muttering to himself. Hermione stayed still, stayed quiet, letting him work through it.

Finally he stopped pacing and leaned on the mantlepiece. Even from across the room she could hear his breathing, ragged and quick. The long queue of his pale hair twitched between his shoulders as he shook his head. "Why?" he said at length, his voice hoarse. "Why would he ask you not to tell me? Why would he not want me to know?"

He bowed his head, his next question almost inaudible. "Why is my son afraid of me?"

Hermione was out of the chair and crossing the room before he'd finished the question. She laid her hands on his back, but that didn't feel like enough to her. She slid her arms around him and rested her head against his spine. Draco stiffened, but Hermione refused to let go of him. She tightened her grip, held onto him until he took one hand from the mantle and placed it on hers. "Why?"

"Draco." She twisted her hand under his to press their palms together. "He isn't afraid of _you_. He's afraid of disappointing you. He wants nothing more than to have you proud of him. You were proud of him learning to survive as a Squib, practically as a Muggle. Every time you praise his progress or encourage him just one more time to excel in his studies, you're proud of him."

Hermione edged around Draco, maneuvering into his line of sight. He glanced at her, the skin around his eyes tight with worry, his lashes damp as he blinked. Hermione cupped his cheek. "He was afraid to have anything to do with magic because he's not experienced, not impressive. He doesn't want you to know because he's afraid that he won't meet your standards. He lives for your approval. Mine is appreciated, welcomed even. But it isn't crucial to him. He needs to have your praise, needs to know that you are proud of him no matter what he is or does or has. Magic or no magic, he needs to know that you love him unconditionally."

Draco made a sharp sound and drew up to his full height, looking at her down the length of his nose. "Are you suggesting that I do not?"

Hermione dropped her gaze to his shirtfront, ashamed of the pain she'd seen in Draco's eyes for that brief moment. "I know you love him. But he's a child, Draco, not a fool. Everything you've done for him has been to make up for his shortcomings. His defect. He finally had a grip on that, finally was able to handle that as reality, and now everything's changed." She smoothed the material of Draco's shirt, patting him without thought behind the action, needing to comfort herself with touch. "Everything's changed and he doesn't know what to do. He's lost and worried and he needs you."

Her voice softened as she spoke, slowly realizing that she wasn't just talking about Scorpius any more. She was talking about herself as well. Lost and worried and not knowing what to do. She stressed herself over how to teach the child, how to help Scorpius learn about and function in a Muggle world, and every time she gave Draco another progress report or update on the work, she couldn't leave the room without Draco's smile and approving nod. She needed his praise and pride as much as Scorpius did. She realized that she was just as afraid. If Scorpius had troubles with learning to be magical, to be a wizard, she was afraid it could reflect on her and on her abilities as a teacher. As a witch. But that wasn't it, wasn't all of it. She needed his praise, but there was more to it. "He needs you," she said again. "I need you."

Draco wrapped his hands around her and settled them on her spine. Hermione laid her head on his chest and listened to his heart and his breathing. "I need you," she said again. "I have no idea how it happened. I missed you while you were gone, I look forward to our meals and evenings together, I can't wait to tell you about what Scorpius and I did each day. This whole marriage of convenience became _important_ somehow, and I have no idea how or why."

Hermione could feel Draco's chest moving as he laughed under his breath. She thumped him with the heel of her hand. "This isn't a laughing matter, Mister Malfoy. You're the wrong person for this, the only person who _should_ need you is your son, and I cannot determine the reason for these feelings."

"Do you have to? Do you need an answer for everything?"

Hermione looked up, head tilted, as Draco looked down. She knotted her brows at the curiosity in his eyes. "Of course. Everything needs an answer. There has to be a reason for anything. Everything."

He tipped her chin up and kissed her. For a moment, she was frozen in surprise, then she made a soft noise and leaned into the kiss. Draco's lips parted and he dragged the point of his tongue along her lower lip. The sensation startled her and she gasped. She hadn't intended for that to be an invitation, but Draco took it as one, and he deepened the kiss. Hermione squeaked and pushed against his chest. Immediately, he released her and took a step back.

His cheeks were flushed pink and his eyes were dark. Hermione held her fingers to her lips, confused by Draco's action and her reaction. She hadn't expected the kiss, but she hadn't entirely wanted it to stop. "Draco...."

He shook his head and held up one hand. "There." He cleared his throat. "There wasn't a reasonable explanation for that. Other than-- No. No reason for it." He swept his hand over his hair and left the room in a rush, his boots clicking on the parquet floor.

* * *

The next day, at luncheon, Hermione sat on the terrace at the back of the house and watched as Draco and Scorpius took a slow walk around the garden. Her tea was cold, but she barely noticed when she took a sip. Draco had picked at his meal as he waited for Scorpius to finish, then asked his son for a few minutes to talk. Scorpius had glanced to Hermione, who leaned over to kiss the top of his head and encouraged him to go speak with his father. The two men, sun gleaming in their pale hair, needed this discussion.

She couldn't hear anything they were saying, couldn't see their expressions at this distance, but she thought it was going well. Hoped and prayed it was. Scorpius couldn't go on with the fear and worry he'd been under the past few weeks. Since her hiring as Scorpius' tutor, she'd seen exactly how much Draco cared for his son, seen exactly how much affection and love there was behind the Malfoy arrogance. She was astonished by it.

Envious of it.

Her eyes widened as the thought hit her, and she set down her tea cup with a tremor in her fingers. All her dreams of love and caring in a marriage, all her hopes for an affectionate and devoted husband and a bright, prosperous future – she'd given all that up when Ron had left her. She'd thought she would never have that life, that family, and here she had....

Nothing like it. A husband, a son, and none of the love she'd wanted, dreamed of for so long. Hermione tore her eyes from Draco and Scorpius, looked down at her hands, and sighed. That wasn't entirely true. She had affection from Scorpius, a touch of respect from Draco, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't everything she'd hoped for all those years.

Hermione took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. No use sorrowing over it. What was done, was done. She would make the best of it. She picked up her tea and blinked at the warmth of the cup, then realized Sadie was standing beside the table with one of her long ears twisted in her fingers. "Yes, Sadie? Did you need something?"

"Sadie is not wishing to pry, Mistress, but you is being with us for two months now, and Sadie is confused. Mistress has not requested assistance with female needs in that time. Is Mistress wishing to take care of these things on her own? Master's first wife required the house-elves to clean all her bedding and supplies every month."

Hermione stared in surprise. Sadie's polite address had stopped startling her not long after the wedding, but the content of this particular conversation seemed to have come from nowhere. "Female needs. Sadie, do you mean my cycle?" She felt her cheeks heating and glanced out at Draco and Scorpius. They were still deep in discussion, Draco crouching to be on eye level with his son, and Hermione felt a small twist of relief. It wasn't a topic of which Draco would be unaware, but it still didn't seem an appropriate subject for him to overhear. "No, Sadie, that's not necessary. I can--" She broke off, her hand over her mouth.

Two months. She'd been married to Draco for two months, and not once in that time had she worried about her cycle, because not once in that time had it arrived. Hermione went over the previous few weeks, her mind racing. Under normal circumstances, she was as regular as the tides, but since the wedding, nothing. No cramps, no backache, no flow. Hermione stifled a quiet sound of dismay and fanned her face with her hand. "No, Sadie," she said again, clearing her throat. "Not necessary. I can take care of this on my own. I appreciate your concern, however. You may clear the table now."

She stood and walked off the terrace, thoughts whirling. There was no reason to worry, not yet. It was possible she was only suffering with the stress of the abrupt marriage, the move to Draco's home, the concern over Scorpius. She might simply be unsettled, and her cycle would resume at any time. It wasn't a certainty.

"Miss Hermione!" She looked up at Scorpius' cry and forced a smile as he rushed to her, his face shining. He flung his arms around her legs and squeezed her tight. "Miss Hermione, you were right. You were right all along. Papa's proud of me, and he understands that I'm not good yet and that I'm learning and you're teaching me everything, and-and-and--" He released her to bounce around, his excitement keeping him from coherent speech.

Hermione's smile became much less forced as she watched him bound up to Draco and back again. She looked to her husband as he approached, and she bit her lip. "I told you he'd understand," she said to Scorpius while nodding at Draco. "He's a good man."

* * *

"Hermione, you have to tell him." Ginny straightened her feathered headdress and turned from one of the tall mirrors scattered around the retiring room of the theater. She rested her hand on the curve of her stomach and watched Hermione pretend not to pace the room. "You can't keep this to yourself."

"Well, clearly," Lavender said from behind the screen hiding a chamber pot. "She told us, didn't she?"

"Not my point, Lav." Ginny rolled her eyes and turned back to Hermione. "You _have_ to tell him. He's your husband, it's his child. He has to know. You have to lie in the bed you made."

"Think she did a bit more than lie in it."

"_Lav_!" Hermione tossed up her hands in frustration as Lav chortled. "I know. I know I have to tell him. It's only that...." She sighed and toyed with the emerald necklace Narcissa had loaned her for the evening. She hadn't wanted to accept, but Draco had seen the necklace on her and looked so pleased that she'd found it difficult to wait for him to leave the room before asking if there were matching earrings. "It's only that I don't, I don't-- I don't know. I don't know what to do at all."

"You tell him. That's what you do." Ginny took a chair, gingerly, her stomach even more prominent when she sat. "There's nothing else you can do. He's not an idiot. Eventually, he'll figure it out."

Lav emerged from behind the screen, adjusting her skirts as she went to the mirror. "You can't imagine that he won't catch on at some point. Why are you afraid of telling him? He's aware where babies come from, I'd imagine. He does have a son."

Hermione wrung her hands, then turned to look at her friends. She took a deep breath. If she couldn't tell her fears to her best friends of over a decade, who could she tell? "He's a pure-blood. His son's a pure-blood. I'm not. This child won't be. Don't you think that will bother him?"

"I think that wouldn't come as a surprise to him." Ginny shifted on her chair, her brows drawing together as she sought a comfortable position. "It's not as though he has no idea you're a Muggle-born, Hermione. If the concept of a half-blood child disturbed him to that extent, I doubt very much that he would have taken you into his bed. Yes, he's a pure-blood, yes, he's very high in the instep and arrogant and all sorts of other attitudes, but you've been married to him for months. You've been working with him for longer than that. In all that time, has he once shown any indication of returning to his old politics? Of mistreating you in any way because of your blood?"

Hermione shook her head, letting Ginny's words roll over her mind. They made sense. Draco hadn't treated her different from before the wedding to after it. He hadn't been abusive, or distant, or cruel. He'd treated her well, given her a far better life than many wives received, especially in an arranged marriage. "Well, no. But--" _He cares for me. But he doesn't care about me. He doesn't love me._

Ginny rubbed her stomach and gave Hermione a long look. "Tell him. Honestly, Hermione. I can't believe that you are making me, and _Lav_, be the rational ones in this conversation."

Lav wrinkled her nose up in mock offense as Hermione laughed. "All right," Hermione said. "That's a good point. Hardly fair to make you two take the logical side. I'll tell him. Soon." She smiled and joked and laughed with her friends as they finished up and went out of the retiring room as the intermission ended. Lav and Ginny went to join Harry, and Hermione made her way to the elegant, private box the Malfoys owned where Draco waited with Scorpius, who had fallen asleep halfway through the first act.

Draco looked up and smiled as she entered. "Is everything all right?"

"Quite, though I'm a little worried about Ginny. This pregnancy is much more difficult on her than before." Hermione took her seat, glancing towards the corridor as raised voices passed the door. "If you have no objection, I'd like to spend the weekend with her. Possibly take Scorpius. It would be good for him to get used to being around other children. He might even make friends."

"Not so certain I'd want him making friends with Potter's children," Draco muttered, but he rolled his eyes and relented when Hermione gave him a glare. "I've no objections, as long as you remember to keep watch over him. I don't want him coming home in a panic because of all the strange magic."

She laid her hand on his arm. "Draco, don't worry. I care about Scorpius as much as if he were my own. I'll protect him when he needs it." Their eyes met and they both stilled, then after a moment Draco patted her hand and nodded.

"There's going to be a slight delay before things start up again," he said with a gesture to the stage. "Seems that yellow roses were delivered to the lead actor instead of red. Quite the upset." He directed her attention to the open seats down below where the populace could watch the play at the cost of a Knut. "Crowd's getting anxious. We should be safe enough up here, but it may become necessary to leave."

The voices in the corridor returned, louder. Hermione checked on Scorpius, curled up in his chair with Draco's coat over him for a blanket. One of the voices sounded familiar, and she strained to listen.

"I don't care what you think. What he thinks. He should have known better from the start. I told him it was a foolish idea. He should never have married her in the first place. It changed everything! He has to face his consequences!"

Scorpius stirred in his sleep and Hermione jumped out of her chair to yank open the door into the corridor and give whoever was shouting a good piece of her mind for disturbing the child. In the corridor stood two men. The closest man blocked her view of the second with his great height and broad shoulders, but he turned at the sound of her cough. Gregory Goyle. For just a moment, she caught a glimpse of a cloaked man standing behind him, but he turned and dashed around the corner before she could get a clear view.

"Mister Goyle," she said, her voice trembling as she told herself in no uncertain terms that she was being silly. Nerves and uncertainty over what she needed to tell Draco, that was all. "Do lower your voice if that was you shouting, or do go elsewhere. Scorpius is attempting to sleep, and the play will resume shortly."

"Do I really look as though I give a damn?" Goyle approached and Hermione stepped back, fetching up against the door. "Do you think I care about your _enjoyment_ of this play? Or the Squib? Think again, Mudblood."

"You really should learn to watch your tongue around my wives, Goyle." Hermione started when she felt Draco's hand against the small of her back. She hadn't heard him get up and move to the door, and from the chagrined expression on Gregory's face, he hadn't heard Draco either. "Astoria was fond of being treated in such a manner by you. God only knows why. Regardless, you will not insult Hermione in such fashion. Or any fashion."

Hermione looked over her shoulder and wanted to shudder at Draco's expression. The skin around his eyes had tightened and two deep lines bracketed his mouth. She turned and put her hand on his chest, over his heart, and pressed at him with a vague wish that she could push him backwards. Unfortunately, she knew there was no pushing Draco about, not for any reason. "Mister Malfoy, don't. This isn't necessary."

Draco wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled in a sweeping gesture that tugged her against him. He bent to kiss the top of her head, but his eyes stayed locked on Gregory. "Hermione, take your seat. I will handle this."

Hermione moved from between the two men, but only looked to make certain Scorpius was still sleeping, then turned her back to the door. She couldn't move any further, couldn't bear to be out of reach. Gregory and Draco both seemed to puff up as they eyed each other. Other theater-goers slowed in curiosity as they passed in the corridor. A few stopped to stare outright, drawn by the tension in the air.

"It's hardly an insult if it happens to be true," Gregory said, his mouth curling in a grimace of disgust."She's not pure. She's hardly a witch at all. Her parents were _Muggles_. I can't fathom how you stand to be in the same room with her, much less how you wed her. Were you that desperate to get between a woman's thighs? You _hire_ whores, Malfoy. You don't marry them."

Hermione, and the gathering crowd, gasped. Draco drew up to his full height, his chin raised. Hermione could see the tension in his shoulders, the quiver in the tips of his long hair as his body trembled with anger.

"Goyle." His voice deepened, rumbling in a growl. "I warned you to watch your tongue. She is my wife, and I will not permit such vile disparagement of her. You will apologize."

Gregory spat on the carpet. "You have my apologies. I'm quite sorry that you married a Mudblood whore."

Draco moved before the words finished echoing in the sudden silence. Both hands plastered to Goyle's robes, and despite the vast difference in their sizes, Draco shoved Goyle across the corridor and slammed him into the wall. "Name your second."

Hermione covered her mouth to hold back a shriek. Several of the onlooking women felt no such restraint. Goyle's eyes widened as the crowd murmured. _Duel. Malfoy's offered a duel._ It seemed that within seconds the number of watchers doubled, and at the back of the crowd, Hermione spotted Harry shoving his way through with Ginny as close behind as her protruding stomach would allow.

"Malfoy, don't be a fool." Gregory fidgeted and Draco shoved him again. "Malfoy, leave off! You're making a spectacle of yourself. This is mad. Give it up. You're only going to back down and crawl off just the same as you did every time you blustered about dawn appointments over Astoria."

"Astoria was never worth the fight. Hermione is. Name your _second_." Draco's voice dropped to a hiss and his lips drew back from his teeth.

Gregory sneered. "Name yours."

"Here." The murmurs of the crowd grew into shocked tumult as Harry stepped up. Ginny stood beside Hermione and clutched her hand as the two men shot glares at Gregory. "I'll stand with him," Harry continued. "Apologize, or it's wands at dawn."

The audience went silent again, waiting with bated breath for the answer. Gregory's face twisted and he swept Draco's hands from his robes. "Go to hell." He shoved through the crowd, knocking people aside as he stormed away.

Draco watched him until he was out of sight, then gave the crowd a glare that made them scatter. He turned his attention to Harry, stared at his old rival for a long moment, then inclined his head and extended his hand. "Potter." His deep voice, laced with wry amusement, held no trace of his anger. "I'm buggered if I know why you stepped up, but thank you."

Harry shook hands, then put his arm around Ginny when she moved to his side. "Hermione's one of my best friends," he said. "Tried to talk her out of this marriage because I was positive you'd mistreat her. That's not what I saw here. Can't imagine you would threaten a duel over her if you didn't care at least a little. Maybe there's more, maybe there's not, but that's enough to be going on with for now."

Hermione raised her brows at both Harry's words and Draco's expression. Ginny turned and gave a grin over her shoulder. Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. Once Ginny got that look in her eyes, and once Harry decided someone was not so bad, that was it. No hope left. Draco might as well resign himself to invitations. Tea for the adults and games for the children.

Children. "Oh, dear heavens, Scorpius!" Hermione peeked into the box at the chair where Scorpius had fallen asleep. Draco's coat was a great mass of fabric in the seat, but –

Hermione's breath caught. The chair held Draco's coat and nothing else. "Scorpius?" She rushed into the box, spinning to examine every corner. "Scorpius!"

Draco appeared at the door, with Ginny and Harry close behind. They watched her in confusion, then, as one, their expressions shifted as realization struck them. Draco jumped into the box and made the same fruitless search as Ginny pulled Hermione into an embrace.

"Where's my son?" Draco threw his coat onto the floor and snarled, his face twisted in fear. "What the hell happened? Where is my _son_?"

"Malfoy." Harry stepped forward and caught Draco by the shoulders. "We'll find him. You search the boxes, I'll go downstairs. Ginny, Hermione, stay here in case he only wandered off to the loo."

"Absolutely not."

Ginny spoke first, with Hermione's voice only a heartbeat behind. They shared a look, then Hermione gave her friend a gentle hug. "I do think it's best that you stay. You can't move quickly, not in these crowds. But I refuse. I'm not staying here, I'm not staying behind. I won't. I _can't_." Her voice trembled as her eyes stung and overflowed.

Draco caught her hand and gripped it tight. "I think you should--"

"No!" She thumped his chest, tears marking her cheeks. "I can't stay here and wait. Draco, please. You hired me to be his teacher and married me to be his mother. He's the closest thing I have to a family; I think of him as my son. You _can't_ ask me to stay behind. If there's trouble, I'd never forgive myself for not being there."

Draco puffed his cheeks on an exhale and raked his fingers through his hair. "And I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. You're my wife, my family." He made a helpless gesture as Hermione, Ginny, and Harry all stared at him in surprise. "Yes, yes, Malfoy has something other than a chunk of stone in his chest, not the time to discuss it. We're after Scorpius. Hermione, take backstage. Go."

To her shock, he pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss before releasing her. "Keep safe," he murmured. "I think I need you, too."

She talked her way backstage with the application of a few hidden charms to ease things along, and scurried through cramped aisles and dressing rooms, poking into every corner where a small boy might have made his way. By a flight of stairs that led into the bowels of the theater, she found a small hand print in the dust on the floor. Her throat was thick with worry as she went down the stairs, her wand held at her side. Scorpius wouldn't have run off on his own, wouldn't have just gone to the loo or walked away from the box without alerting her or Draco. Someone had to have sneaked in and taken him while they were all distracted by the confrontation with Gregory.

Anyone who dared to harm him would have to face an angry lioness, she knew, and when she was done, Draco would extract his own revenge on whatever pieces were left. Only a madman or a fool would have taken off with the child. Hermione chewed on her lip as she poked her head around a corner, then eased into a small corridor. She feared this had something to do with the Isolationists, and they were, to a man, mad and fools.

A scrabbling in the shadows drew her attention, and Hermione held back a shriek as a rat scurried across the floor. "Scorpius," she called in the loudest whisper she dared. "Scorpius, sweetheart. Are you there?"

"He's here."

Hermione snapped her wand up almost as soon as she heard the harsh, malevolent voice, but the moment of hesitation was enough. Just enough for a spell barked in the shadows - "_Expelliarmus_" - followed swiftly by a second. "_Stupefy_."

Hermione fell into dark unconsciousness as the cloaked man crouched over her. "Mudblood bitch."

* * *

She woke in a dim room with a splitting headache, the smell of mold and damp all around her. She struggled to move, to sit up, but drooped with a soft cry of pain when one of her arms wouldn't support her weight enough to push up from the cold stones.

"Miss Hermione." A shape moved in the faint light from a high, small window. Hermione let out a sob of relief as Scorpius rushed across the room and knelt at her side, his hands patting at her hair and face. "Miss Hermione, the door's locked. Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm supposed to be asking you that, Scorpius." With some effort, she managed to edge up into a sitting position, propped against the wall. Scorpius climbed into her lap and wrapped his arms around her. Hermione's head spun. It felt as though her brain had been stuffed full of wool, and she assumed that in addition to the hex, she'd been drugged. She brought her good arm around Scorpius and clung to him, nuzzling into his hair. "It's all right, sweetheart," she murmured. "We're all right."

"They made you drink something to keep you asleep, Miss Hermione. It smelled awful. They were going to give it to me, but the man said I'm a Squib so they didn't have to. They said you couldn't get a message out now, and Papa wouldn't be able to find us." He looked up at her, and she could see the faintest tracks of tears on his cheeks. Hermione cradled him close as he sniffled. "Papa has to find us."

"He will. I promise." Hermione had a dozen questions. _Who were the men? Where were she and Scorpius being kept? What did their captors want? Would she see Draco again?_ Most of those questions had to wait. She couldn't very well get answers out of a frightened child. There was one she had to ask right away, however. "Scorpius, do you know if they took my wand?"

He sniffed again and wiped his face with the skirts of her gown. "They went through your reticule but I don't think they took anything. They said you were out and since I couldn't use a wand anyway, it wasn't dangerous. They've been gone a long time, Miss Hermione. I think they were planning to be back before you woke up."

"I have a very hard head, darling. Ask anyone who attended school with me." She smiled as he gave a short, quiet giggle. "Get my wand, bring it here. We'll be out of this in a trice."

She covered her face and held back a sob while Scorpius was looking the other direction. As frightened as she was, as much pain as her arm was giving her every time she tried to move it, she couldn't allow the child to see any crack in her resolve. She had to be strong for him.

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and thanked Scorpius when he found her wand. She concentrated and aimed at a point on the floor. "_Expecto Pa_\--" A pain flared in her head, just behind her eyes, and Hermione curled to her side, retching. Her eyes watered as bile filled her throat, and she could see Scorpius' pale complexion go white. She held her hand out to him as she struggled to regain her composure. The potion they'd given her was having some sort of reaction with her body. Whether the result was accidental or deliberate was a question she didn't care to examine.

"Miss Hermione, are you all right?" Scorpius crept close and took her hand, holding it in both of his. "Do you need help?"

"I'll be fine, sweetheart. I need you to come close. I need you to concentrate. I'm going to teach you a spell, and it's a difficult one." She prayed that she'd not have to fight and plead with him over magic use and a new spell, not under these circumstances.

Scorpius, as pragmatic as his father, didn't argue or protest. He crouched beside her, listening with his eyes squinted shut as Hermione explained the process of creating a Patronus. "The happiest memory you have, sweetheart. Please. You can do this. Say it aloud if you have to; make it seem real all over again."

Scorpius gripped her wand in both hands and squeezed his eyes closed. His lips moved as he focused, and Hermione heard the faintest whisper from him. "Papa in the gardens, with Miss Hermione. When they thought I wasn't looking and Papa gave her a kiss. They both turned red and looked away and then Papa held her hand, and I had a family." The tensions in Scorpius' face eased, and he raised the wand as he took a deep breath. "_Expecto Patronum_."

The familiar silver mist poured from her wand and Hermione held her breath as it coalesced and solidified into a bouncing, gamboling kitten. "You did it, Scorpius! Now give it a message."

He opened his eyes and gasped, beaming with pride. He leaned down and passed one hand over the kitten's back, then spoke in clear tones. "Draco Malfoy. Papa. Miss Hermione and I are alive, but she's hurt. Come quick, help us."

Hermione pulled him into her embrace, her injured arm stiff at her side, and she kissed the top of his head in an effusion of pride as the silver kitten disappeared through the stone wall of the room. "Perfect, Scorpius. That was perfect."

He clutched her wand and grinned so wide she was surprised his lip didn't split. "I did it! Miss Hermione, Papa will be proud, yes? Proud of me?"

"Of course he will, sweetheart."

"How _adorable_." Venom seemed to drip from the words, and Hermione looked over Scorpius' head as he clung to her. The cloaked man stood in the doorway, his hood tipped in a mockery of an affectionate gesture. He stepped into the room, wand held low. "It's a shame you didn't respond to that letter, Miss Granger. Oh, do pardon me." He gave a mocking bow, cloak sweeping the floor. "Mrs. Malfoy. Truly a shame you never answered me. I wouldn't have had to go to all this trouble. I don't appreciate having to chase you and the Squib down. Not putting me in the mood for leniency, you understand."

Scorpius trembled, sniffling back a sob as the wand pointed at him. The cloaked man continued, that malevolent voice full of a dark amusement. "I only wanted to rid him of _you_, you know. At first. It had gone on far too long. He should have drowned you at birth, like an unwanted puppy. Would have saved him so much anxiety and worry, would have kept him with us for so much longer." The voice shifted, growling. "Astoria would still be alive, if it weren't for you, Squib."

Scorpius tensed in Hermione's grasp, his face turned to her shoulder. She could feel tears dampening the fabric of her gown, could feel his small frame trembling with fear as he muffled small, mewling noises against her. "Stop it," she said, her voice shaking. "You're terrifying him."

"If you really think that wasn't the _point_, I have some concerns about the validity of your reputation for intelligence." The man shoved back the hood of his cloak. In the dim light, she couldn't quite make out his features, but Hermione caught her breath as he spoke again, in his own voice. "Filthy Mudblood bitch."

"Mister Goyle?" She stared up in shock as he moved forward and out of shadow.

"He's a _shame_ to pure-bloods, you realize. Mudblood wife, Squib of a son. I tried to take care of this all once before. I had to stop him. He was tainting himself, tainting the lineage. His ancestry. His marriage. He was tainting Astoria." His face went purple and twisted in rage. "I was so close. Crabbe and I were so close. We almost had her convinced. _Nearly_ had her convinced to leave him, divorce him and abandon the worthless little bastard. Then that damned house-elf overheard us and ruined it all. She threatened to tell Malfoy everything, and Astoria went mad. She ran upstairs, Crabbe chased after her, and I had to stay behind and Obliviate the tiny green bitch. No big trouble to alter a house-elf's memory, but she fought so much that it took too long, and then it was too late. Too late to fix things."

Scorpius sobbed in earnest as Gregory went on and on, and Hermione clung to him, frustrated and frightened. She knew she couldn't get up and go on the offensive as long as she had Scorpius to protect, but with her injury and the potion still muddling her mind, she was next to useless at defense as well. All she could do was pray that Draco would recieve Scorpius' Patronus and find them, quickly. If she could just keep Gregory talking, she could buy some time. "Astoria wasn't responsible for her actions. She needed help, not people goading her into further madness. How can you blame anyone else for what happened when you and Mister Crabbe were the ones pushing her that night?"

"It's _his_ fault," Gregoy snarled, wand pointed at Scorpius. "The Squib. She went mad because of him."

"He was a _baby_!" she shouted, cradling Scorpius close. She tried to turn her body, to put more of herself between the child and the man. "He wasn't a Squib, he's never _been_ a Squib. Even if he was, no one could have known it that young. You're blaming him for something that's not even true!"

"He took Astoria from me. I'll blame him for whatever I please."

Hermione's eyes widened. "This is all about her, isn't it? You were one of her lovers. You were her favorite, Draco told me. You _loved_ her. Her death was not his fault."

Gregory's expression turned even more vile and he raised his wand. "It was. It was his fault. He killed her. Malfoy took away the woman I loved and she's dead, and now I'll make him suffer as much as I have all these years."

The room's dim light brightened as an explosion shook the stones. Scorpius screamed into Hermione's shoulder. Through the window, Hermione heard other screams, louder and deeper, and over them all she heard the dark roar she'd heard months ago, when Draco had charged down the alley. Tears dripped down her cheeks and into Scorpius' hair as she realized he'd found them. Gregory spun on his heel and ran out of the room.

In desperation, Hermione tried to talk Scorpius into taking her wand and helping her up for an escape attempt, but every time he took a breath, another scream echoed outside, or another explosion rattled the building. He sobbed in hysterics, curled around her knees in terror, and all she could manage in the end was a Shielding spell that made her head throb to the point that her vision faded.

She clung to Scorpius as the battle raged, then forced herself to her feet and pulled Scorpius up with her after a few minutes allowed her time to think and gather her courage. "I'm frightened, too," she told him as he struggled in his fear. "But come on, sweetheart. We're getting out of here, and we're going to be safe. You can hear what's happening. It's your father, come to rescue us. We're going to help him out. Won't he be proud?"

Cajoling the child worked to get them out of the room and into the long corridor. They were in a small outbuilding. From the lingering smell, it was an abandoned brewery. Scorpius clutched Hermione's hand, her wand held tight in his other fist. They crept down the corridor, though their silence seemed unnecessary with the shouting outside. Around the corner, they ran into a man, his wand held in a shaking grasp. Hermione stared in unabashed shock at the face and hair that were identical to her husband's, only marked as different by the passage of years and the light of confusion in his pale grey eyes. "Lucius?"

He met her eyes, then looked down to Scorpius. In that instant, the slight expression of bewilderment shifted to resolution. "Family," he muttered. "Save my family." He lifted his head and bellowed his son's name.

No answer came.

Lucius swore and made an imperious gesture. "This way." Hermione followed, leading Scorpius with a strong grip on his hand. Scorpius whimpered as a deep-voiced shout cut through the noise around them. Hermione wanted to whimper, as well. She'd recognized the voice, even in its pain. "Lucius, please. Please hurry. We have to help him."

"My son can handle himself. We have to save you and the child." Lucius looked at her, his eyes narrowed. She could see the struggle he was under to remain lucid, to keep his senses intact, and she snapped her jaw closed on a retort. "There is nothing more important than keeping the family safe. That is what he is doing, and that is what I shall do. Come with me."

Left with little choice, Hermione followed. Scorpius kept a tight grip on her hand, but Hermione's heart twisted at the blank look in his eyes. He was walking under his own power, but that seemed to be all. The shouting, the explosions. All his hard work was coming unraveled in front of her, and there was nothing she could do except keep moving.

A dark shape rushed from an open doorway ahead, long cloak fluttering. Lucius moved faster than Hermione would have ever suspected, wand snapped up and out to send the man flying backward. They ran on, bursting through a broken door into a yard. Several limp bodies scattered the grass, though to her intense relief, she recognized none of them. Ahead, at the edge of the drive, two men were engaged in a duel. The larger of the two was Gregory, identifiable even at this distance, but she didn't recognize the smaller man until he fired a Disarming spell. "Harry!"

Her shout distracted him and Gregory leapt forward, tackling Harry to the ground. Hermione keened in distress, Scorpius sobbed against her side, and Lucius muttered profanities under his breath. Scorpius dropped Hermione's hand and ran, fleeing toward the trees at the edge of the yard. Hermione gave chase without thought, running after him despite the ache in her head and the pain that made her feel she should rip her arm off to end its throbbing. She caught him up at the treeline, ducked and tugged him into a one-handed embrace, and looked up in time to see Draco emerging from the stone building, his anger terrible in its beauty.

Harry had fended off Gregory, his smaller size giving him an advantage in speed and dexterity, and Hermione clung to Scorpius and watched as Harry joined forces with Draco to take Gregory down. Spells flew wide and wild, green and blue bursts of magic filling the air. Draco took one in the shoulder and dropped to his knees, swaying. Hermione screamed.

Draco looked up and saw her. His face filled with unreasonable relief, then hardened. He leapt to his feet, ignored the blood soaking his sleeve, and waded back into the fight. The tide began to turn, Gregory staggered back step after step as Draco, Harry, and, within moments, Lucius fought him down. Hermione saw the instant Gregory decided he had lost. He spun, pointed his wand at her and Scorpius, and shouted the first half of the Killing Curse.

Only half.

Simultaneously, the three other men fired, in attack and defense. Hermione staggered as the shockwave of magic shook the ground. Scorpius fell, and Hermione fell with him. She used the ends of her strength to drape her body over his, used the end of her consciousness to cover them with a Shielding spell. Her vision greyed, and the last thing she saw was an angel with disheveled blond hair and blood spattered across his pointed nose. The last thing she heard was his terrified voice as he screamed for her and his son.

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes to sunlight. Her head ached and her arm was bound in a bandage from shoulder to wrist. There was a weight at the end of her bed and she glanced down through her lashes, her head aching too much to let her move it. Sitting on the foot of her bed was Scorpius, his head bowed over his hands. He was talking to himself and she strained to hear.

"If you wake up today, Miss Hermione, that would be brilliant. I've been practicing and practicing with Papa's help and I really want to show you what I can do." He opened his hands and his little face screwed up in concentration. The bit of ribbon in his fingers shimmered and twisted, and all of a sudden, he held a violet. It was small and lopsided and one of the petals fell off as she watched, but it was undeniably a violet, Transfigured from the ribbon.

Hermione smiled and raised her hand. "That's lovely, Scorpius. Very good."

He snapped his head up and broke into a wide grin, then tossed the violet over his shoulder and scrambled up the bed to wrap his arms around her. "Miss Hermione, Miss Hermione, you're awake! You're all right! Did you see what I did?"

"I saw, sweetheart. I'm very proud of you."

Scorpius beamed, then his eyes widened and he leapt off the bed. He ran to the door, shouting for his father, who came in moments later. "What's all the noise? Scorpius, you need to be quiet and let her rest, _oh_." He saw Hermione smiling at him, and his face broke into a grin nearly as wide as his son's. "I see. Thank you, Scorpius. Why don't you go find your grandmother and tell her the good news?"

"In a minute, Papa." Scorpius ran back to the bed and tugged at Hermione's good arm. "Miss Hermione, I'm ready now. You've been so good to teach me and you've made Papa happy, and you saved me. We made a family, and I think I might love you a little bit, so if it's all right with you, may I call you Mummy?"

Hermione's breath caught in her chest and she blinked back a sudden barrage of tears. "Scorpius, I would be very pleased if you would call me Mummy. I think I might love you a little bit, too."

He popped up on his toes and kissed her cheek, then bounded out of the room with a hug to Draco's leg as he passed. Draco smiled after his son and pulled a chair up beside Hermione's bed. He took her hand and patted it for a moment, the gesture awkward and nervous. A muscle in his jaw jumped as his eyes shifted to storm grey, and he gave Hermione a stern look that wavered around the edges. "Don't ever frighten me like that again, Mrs. Malfoy. I nearly had a heart attack when that Patronus came screeching to me, and Scorpius is nowhere near old enough to run the estates yet."

Hermione managed a tiny smile and squeezed her fingers around Draco's. "I won't. What happened?"

"We won," he said simply. "Goyle has been arrested, along with the man he paid to abduct Scorpius from the theater box while we were distracted. The Ministry will handle them. I may have to testify, as may you and Scorpius, but we can worry about that later, once you've recovered. Potter's a hell of a fighter, isn't he? I shall have to send him a letter of thanks."

Hermione smiled, though it made her head throb. "He is. Was he with you when Scorpius' Patronus came?"

Draco shook his head and looked sheepish. "I fetched him. Man had already agreed to be my second, after all. Wasn't going to allow him to back out when there was actually a battle to be fought."

She nodded, once, then held her head as it ached, and scolded herself for the movement. "Your father. Is he...."

Draco's jaw tightened and he glanced down at their joined hands. "He's under care. He shouldn't have come along, but he overheard me planning with Potter. His mind started working when his family was in trouble, and there was no stopping him after that. Scorpius is fine, no injuries. He's been having nightmares, but that's to be expected. I think they may fade a bit now that you're awake. He was more worried about you and me than he was about himself. Strong child." His hand tensed around hers and his voice shook as he spoke. "The Healers say that as long as you rest your arm for a few days, it should be fine as well. The baby is healthy, they said. Moving right along, standard pregnancy. Congratulations, they told me."

Hermione gasped and scrambled to sit up and apologize for not telling him sooner. Draco gripped her hand tight enough that her ring dug into her finger and he cut off her stammered explanation. "I don't care. I don't care why you didn't tell me right away. Whatever the reason, it can't possibly matter. All that matters is that.... Is that." He looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. Hermione held hers, waiting for him to shout. Instead, he laughed. Joyous, rolling laughter. "All that matters is that I'm going to be a father again, and I could not be more proud."

He rose from his chair and bent over her to kiss her forehead, then helped her into a sitting position. "I know you're fond of adventures," he said, reclaiming his seat. "But since you're pregnant, would you mind terribly not taking my children along with you on these sorts of adventures? Either of them? You gave me a bit of a scare." He shook his head, his fringe falling around his face. Hermione gave into the impulse to tuck his hair behind his ear, and Draco caught her hand again. He brought it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, exhaling in a sharp puff.

Hermione thought she caught the sound of a stifled choke in his breath,and she looked at Draco with worry. His voice had shifted as he spoke, the amusement fading from it to leave behind a raw and disquieting upset.

He looked back at her and gave a helpless shrug. "All right, more than a bit of a scare. Absolute mind-numbing, heart-wrenching terror might be closer. I was frantic at the idea of losing Scorpius, but I was just as frantic at the idea of losing you. I don't know how you managed to wriggle so deep into my life, but I need you, Hermione. I've laughed more since the day I hired you than I have in the years since my first marriage. You've taught Scorpius so much. You've made him happy. You've made _me_ happy. It's going to take us a long while to really get to know each other, but you've been such a patient teacher to Scorpius that I'm hoping you can do the same for me. I trust you, even when you drive me mad. As impossible as you are to live with, it's impossible to imagine living without you. If it's all right with you, would you mind if I love you just a little bit, even if I can't quite come up with a reasonable explanation for why?"

Hermione smiled through her tears. "I think I may just have to approve of that, Mister Malfoy, because I love you a little bit as well."

He rose to sit beside her, pulling her into his arms with delicate care. He tipped her head to his for a kiss, and she whispered to him just before their lips touched. "There doesn't have to be a reason for everything."

**Author's Note:**

> I am unabashedly unashamed of reading Regency romances, so when the opportunity came to do a long fic to celebrate Hermione's birthday, I leapt at the chance to write one of my own. This was a difficult journey. Thanks so much to Krissy, Inspire, Kiwi, and Tori for listening to my flailing, and thanks to my betas for their hard work.


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